Abandoned Love

by Rosie Houghton

  “But you can’t forgive the big sins, I mean the Church can’t exonerate everything.”

  “No, but it helps us feel better about ourselves particularly if you are Catholic.” He said taking his first mouthful.

  “I’ve always liked the Catholic religion. It seems to me far more serious and authentic. I don’t agree with a Church that is founded on divorce, even though I feel a hypocrite saying it, being a divorcee like you.”

  “Don’t be. The Church of England has at least acknowledged that we can all make mistakes, some more serious than others.”

  They carried on eating their supper. It occurred to Marjorie that Arthur was probably trying to make sense of his first marriage and why it had gone so wrong. At least her short lived marriage had not produced any children.

  “Do you believe in an afterlife?” She asked.

  “If you are referring to life after our existence, I think our existence was probably before we had a life. I often think we are here on earth for a purpose, to find love, to give love and finally give up love, leaving those behind us, to do the same thing, live by our example. It sounds depressing, but it shouldn’t be. I think life is beautiful, if not challenging. It sets various obstacles along our path and we have to negotiate them. Provided we negotiate the right path, we will have a fulfilled life. Don’t get me wrong, chance plays a significant factor. I’m a scientist. I will often purport to have the answers to everything, but rarely is the whole of creation solvable.”

  Arthur stood up and went to the bar to get some more drinks in. Marjorie carried on eating the shepherds pie. When he returned, placing the glasses on the table, she asked.

  “It must have been difficult to qualify as a scientist at Cambridge and then re-evaluate your religious beliefs with the science, that is, if you are religious?”

  “Oh I believe in a greater being, I just haven’t met him yet.”

  “You said at our last lunch that when your time is up, it’s up. I don’t think you can do much to control destiny.” She argued.

  “More’s the pity! I was hoping that after the Planetarium, we had a little bit more control of ours. But there’s my point, you have galaxy after galaxy of constellations, millions of light years away. It’s mind boggling. I don’t think we can ever comprehend the universe or try to. I have huge respect for it, who doesn’t? But, the long and short of it is when we die we die. I think the most important mission for human beings is love and the ability to bring new love in to the world.”

  Marjorie paused for thought. How had she missed so much in the earlier years of her life? She had been so locked in to herself just letting life pass her by. She had if she was honest with herself spent too much time on her own, brooding about her lot in life.

  After that evening in the Flask, she continued to see Arthur most evenings after work. They just seemed to get into an inevitable routine. Sometimes, they would just meet for a drink as he often had to work late in the City. Arthur had a high profile job as chemical engineer with BP. She did not pertain to understand what he did as it was extremely technical, mostly graphical analyses of the chemical degradation of oil at different temperatures in different climates. All she knew was that he had to work long hours and that it was extremely stressful. She liked to think that seeing her, helped to relax him. He would always have to cut short these evenings during the week to get back to his house in North London.

  At the weekends, Marjorie would go and see him at his house in Barnet. It was a lovely semi detached house with a beautiful garden. The best bit was the willow tree in the garden where they would hang out in the spring when the first shoots were coming up in the garden such as daffodils and snowdrops. She often helped in the garden, pruning back the roses and digging up the weeds. The garden felt part of them in some way, continually evolving and growing into beautiful flowers.

  One sunny day they were sitting on the bench outside the kitchen, nursing a small sherry and some biscuits.

  “I don’t know what it is about gardening and getting older. They seem to go hand in hand.”

  “You’re not that old,” he replied, patting her on the back gently. By now Arthur knew most things about Marjorie, including her age. They had no need for secrets.

  “I love the feeling when spring has sprung, when all the first shoots start coming through.”

  “Like a garden bursting in to life.” He offered.

  “Something like that.”

  “I’d better start preparing something to eat.”

  With that Marjorie stood up and smoothed down her apron. She loved cooking for Arthur, even if it was just a simple three egg omelette. She loved caring for him as well as making his house a home. Luckily for her this house had no traces of his previous marriage, as he had given up the marital home to his ex wife. She had never had these feelings for somebody before. They were all consuming, like the garden that needed their constant attention.

  He in turn, gave her the confidence she had been desperately lacking. Even though she was in her forties, she still hadn’t passed her driving test. Many had tried to teach her, each one flattening her resolve.

  Arthur would often pick her up from the train station in North London where his house was and allow them to swap seats so that she could take control of the car.

  “It’s very simple, you just press down on the clutch and then select the gears, slowly ease off the clutch and put pressure on the accelerator.”

  He would place his hands over Marjorie’s and gently offer the instruction. His touch was strong and firm. To Marjorie, he felt very in control, but it was her feet doing the work.

  “Think of it like playing the piano, easing your feet off the pedals to the variance in the vibrato.”

  He would never scold her or raise a hand. If she made a mistake, he would just chortle with laughter and tell her to start again.

  “Oh please don’t laugh.” She said laughing with him.

  “I can’t help it if you drive like a jumping kangaroo.” He responded.

  “I’ll get the better of you.” And with that he would often bend down and give her a loving peck on the forehead.

  “I love you when you are flustered.”

  Eventually after nine months, Marjorie met his teenage sons. They took them out at the weekend, either to the beach or the park. They both came to realize that what they had was serious. Their love for each other was very strong. She could not bear to be without him.

  They would often take them to see her mother in Margate, so that his two sons could play on the arcades. The smell of sweet candy floss used to permeate the air, interacting with the sour smell of vinegar, fish and chips. The resort oozed fun on the sands. The donkeys would slowly plod up and down the beach, whilst the children were screaming in and out of the waves of the ocean. Marjorie could see Arthur loved those excursions with his sons. He would roll up his slacks, take off his shoes and socks and run in and out of the sea with them, leaping over the piles of seaweed. Her heart ached to one day have children with this man, to give him the opportunity to have a proper family again. However there was no hiding the fact that her biological clock was ticking.

  MIRIAM 1965

  DUBLIN

  WHEN MIRIAM GOT home that evening after that wonderful night with Len, she arrived to find Orla slumped with her head down on the kitchen table. She had obviously been crying as there were mounds of tissues everywhere. There was an empty glass of what looked like the remnants of a whisky on the table.

  “What’s up sis?” She asked.

  “You won’t fecking believe it! Patrick’s only got me fecking pregnant.”

  “Jesus holy Mother of God, what will mum say! She won’t let us be pregnant unless we’re married. She will see it as bringing shame on the family.”

  “I know, I know, but she doesn’t believe in abortion either. She thinks that is the ultimate Catholic sin as well.”

  “Does Patrick know?”

  “Of course he fecking knows. It bloody ruined ou
r evening. He’s gone out to get pissed and won’t be back until morning, that irresponsible little shit.”

  “You need to talk about this together sis. You can’t do this on your own.”

  “For the Mother of God don’t you think I know that? Don’t what ever you do get in to this mess. I don’t care how much they say they love you, men are just after one thing. Now I am well and truly stuffed.”

  The feelings Miriam had for Len that evening were still raw in her chest. She knew she was in love with this man. Surely if you loved someone, it would all come right in the end? Surely if Patrick and her sister talked, he would do the right thing by her. Although the sexual revolution of the 1960s was in full swing in England, not Ireland, family planners, insisted you wore a wedding ring to receive contraception and took a dim view of sex outside marriage. There was no question of an abortion. In those days it was illegal unless you went to a back-street abortionist in England or paid an expensive consultant in London. Their parents and most of the doctors around were of a generation that lived within the rules. Miriam’s generation were a generation that wanted to change the rules.

  “You need to talk to Patrick. See if he will make an honest woman of you. If you act now it might not be too late.”

  “Don’t you think I frigging know that sis? I’m up the duff and he’s on the piss.”

  “Calm down, calm down. He’s probably in shock right now like you are. Give him time, he will come round.”

  “I haven’t got time sis. If he won’t marry me then I’m going to have to resort to some drastic measures. We just don’t have the money.”

  Miriam’s heart went out to her sister that night. She had some money, but not a lot. They were so close as a family, it would break their hearts if their mother disowned them. She only wanted what was best for her girls. She was also staunchly Catholic. She would not accept any child out of wedlock. Miriam grabbed herself a tumbler and poured herself a whisky. She asked her sister if she wanted another one, but she refused, thinking at the very least she would try and give her mite a little chance.

  “Maybe we should go and see Father Amon and seek his advice?

  “What! And risk the whole community knowing. I can’t risk it sis.”

  That night Miriam put her sister to bed and drank another whisky and smoked a cigarette. She had such a wonderful evening it seemed cruel that it should end with this demise. She didn’t know Len well enough to confide in him. He would probably help if she asked, but she could risk losing him. The most important thing to sort out now was Patrick. They would have to talk to him tomorrow if he was going to be in any fit state to talk to that is.

  Miriam slept fretfully that night tossing and turning. Her thoughts were with Len and the lovely evening they had had and then switched to her sister and the mess she had got herself into. It rained heavily that night, the rain pounding against the windows, dripping on to the roofs below. It was as if the heavens were opening that night, pouring out their grief for the situation they found themselves in. Miriam curled up in a ball and pulled the covers tightly around her. Her parents would never accept her sister’s demise unless she was married. Even then they were bound to suspect something. They hadn’t even met Patrick yet, let alone accepted him. As the night wore on the rain gradually turned to a patter. The darkness began to fade to light. Miriam didn’t know what time it was, but she heard a door slam in the early hours and some footsteps climb the stairs to Orla’s room. Finally she dozed off waiting for the dawn to begin.

  Her sister and Patrick were sat at the kitchen table when she surfaced the following morning. Patrick looked a little worse for wear, his hair slightly dishevelled. Her sister’s eyes were red from crying. She looked exhausted. She clearly had not had a wink of sleep. She lit the gas stove and put the kettle on. There was a dull silence in the air.

  “Anyone for a cup of tea?” Miriam asked

  “I guess Orla has told you,” said Patrick, looking up at her.

  “Yes.” Miriam replied.

  She knew her sister would have chastised him for staying out late last night. The fact that he had come home at all was a starting point. Her sister got up to get some orange juice from the fridge. Patrick dragged his hands through his hair and then reached for a packet of cigarettes on the table.

  “The thing is do you want this baby?”

  “No, I want to frigging kill it you idiot! What do you think I want to do?” her sister retorted.

  “Well, it’s just that we’ve never discussed children before.”

  “Do you think I planned this?”

  “Calm down sis, we have to deal with the present.”

  They discussed the fact that neither of their families would cope with children out of wedlock. Patrick’s family were fiercely Catholic too. Whilst Patrick hadn’t planned to get married, he wanted to do the right thing by her sister. He said he didn’t have the best job in the world, but maybe they could move to London and he would get more lucrative freelance work there. He was a builder by trade and lots of his mates had done just that.

  “Maybe we could have a small Registry Office wedding in Dublin and then get a ferry to England. Maybe Miriam can be one of our witnesses?”

  “What will mum say?”

  “You’ll have to tell her sis.”

  “But she will go through the roof!”

  “Surely she won’t if you tell her you’re getting married. If you keep it a quiet affair then the family won’t be embarrassed. We could go and see them today.”

  Miriam’s sister then burst into tears. She couldn’t bear the thought of their parent’s reaction. How would they cope with the shame of it all? They had always talked of a big wedding ceremony for the both of them when the time came, lots of guests and a big family reception. Her sister was now going to deny them the pride of such an occasion. A shot gun wedding with an elopement to England.

  The telephone rang. Nobody wanted to pick it up for fear it was their parents. Miriam went to pick it up.

  “Hi it’s me, Len.”

  “Hi.”

  “Do you feel like doing something today?”

  “Oh Len I’d love to, but we have a bit of a family crisis I’m afraid. Maybe some other time.”

  “Fine, your call, see you soon.”

  And with that he put the phone down. Miriam felt terrible, as if she had stabbed him in the back. Would he ever call her again? She wanted more than anything to go out with him that day but her sister was in a terrible state. She couldn’t just leave her.

  “Who was that?”

  “Oh nothing. It can wait. We need to go and see mum. Patrick, do you agree?”

  “Yes.”

  With that they all went to their bedrooms to get changed. Having put on their smart attire, Patrick offered to drive them to their parent’s house just outside Cork. The journey would take about three hours. Orla took a grocery bag as a sick bag, just in case she was sick on the way. The drive was quite subdued as they took the road out of Dublin and then through the undulating green countryside. Miriam’s thoughts were of Len and when she would next see him. She wondered how he would have reacted to this situation? After all, he had been married before and had two children. Would he stand by her as Patrick was doing for her sister?”

  The roads were still wet from the heavy rain the night before. The sun was trying to break through the clouds. They tuned in the radio to the sound of the Moody Blues and “Nights in White Satin”. Every now and then Patrick would put a reassuring hand on Orla’s knee. She was queasy, but didn’t feel sick. No one spoke throughout that journey. They were all worried about their parent’s impending reaction. What if they decided to shun her sister altogether for her actions and decide to never speak to her again? Surely they wouldn’t, not if her sister was getting married?

  After two and a half hours of driving, which seemed like an eternity, they pulled in to their parent’s drive and leapt out of the car. There were their two springer spaniels there, that had grown up wit
h them, to greet them. Miriam was the first to enter the kitchen. The Aga was ticking over to the gurgling noise of the oil.

  “What a nice surprise Miriam! You didn’t tell us you were coming.”

  In truth she hadn’t thought about ringing ahead beforehand. She had just sort of assumed in the commotion of it all that they would always be there. They never strayed far from the home, only venturing out to see close friends and family every now and then at their local.

  “I’ve brought my sis and her boyfriend too. Patrick meet my parents.”

  They exchanged handshakes and pleasantries and slowly made their way to the kitchen table. Miriam’s mother was eyeing Orla strangely. They didn’t normally turn up unannounced like this. Their parents usually liked to have some warning of their pending arrival, so their mother could make a fuss over them. The small grandfather clock ticked in the background. Her mum started to put on the kettle.

  “So what’s brought on this lovely surprise then?”

  Miriam’s sister sat awkwardly on the chair, her fingers twisting in her lap. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out of her. Miriam could see the stress of the last few days weighing down on her. Her eyes were heavy from crying. She couldn’t gauge whether her mother noticed anything strange.

  “The thing is Mrs Sullivan-Cody we have something to tell you. Your daughter and I are going to get married.” Patrick blurted out.

  “Shouldn’t you be asking my permission young man?” Her father interjected.

  “You’re bloody pregnant, that’s what this is about.”

  Their mother was never prone to swearing, but clearly the anger had got the better of her now. Miriam’s sister had now brought shame on their family and their mother was not going to tolerate this without a fight.

  “Mum, listen it’s not like that.”

  “Why else would you announce that you are getting married to someone I’ve never seen before.” Their mum yelled.

  “I don’t want to cause you any further embarrassment than I already have. Yes, I am pregnant, but we plan to get married straight away in a Registry Office in Dublin. We’re then going to London where we plan to have the baby.”