Irish Secrets

by Paula Martin

  As he reached the outskirts of Clifden, his phone rang, and he clicked the button on the steering column.

  "Ryan, she just called me," Kara's breathless voice said through the car speakers. "Theresa called me."

  Chapter 15

  "Take a deep breath, darlin'."

  Kara did as Ryan said, and gave a half-laugh. "Sorry, my heart is still thudding like a jackhammer. I could hardly believe it when I answered my phone and she said, Hallo, this is Theresa Brogan."

  "Did she tell you anything about her daughter?"

  "No. She asked me first how I knew her address, and I said a friend found it in the electoral roll. Then she asked if I knew where my mother was born, and I told her it was Ballykane in Tipperary. I had a problem with her accent, as it was different from what I'm used to, but she said she would like to meet with me and suggested the Harbour Café on Westport Quay next Wednesday afternoon about two o'clock. I didn't even check my calendar, but told her I'd be there. I was worried I might never have another chance if I said it wasn't convenient."

  "And is it convenient for you?"

  Her mind reeled. "I think we have presentations every day next week, but I'll ask the others to excuse me on Wednesday. And I don't expect you to take me up to Westport, Ryan. I'm sure there must be buses from Clifden."

  "Aye, there's one a day in each direction, but don't you be worrying about that, because I'll take you."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Of course I am. It's an easy drive, and we could have some lunch in the town before you meet with Theresa."

  "Okay, that sounds good. Thank you."

  "I'm working all weekend, but I'll call you."

  Kara clicked off her phone, disappointed at the prospect of not seeing him until next week. At the same time, a flurry of nervous excitement skittered through her at the thought of meeting the woman who could be her grandmother.

  * * * * *

  "I've been tense ever since I woke up this morning," she said to Ryan when he picked her up on Wednesday morning. "I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to or dreading this meeting with Theresa. What if I don't like her? What if she tells me she was a prostitute and didn't want the baby? What if—"

  "Stop tying yourself in knots, darlin'. You've been aware of these possibilities all along, so try to relax and go with the flow of whatever happens today. If you want my opinion, the fact that she's asked to meet you says she thinks your mother might be her baby."

  "But she lives in Sligo, and wants to meet in Westport. I checked the distance, and it's about fifty miles. Do you think that means she doesn't want anyone to know she's meeting me?"

  "It's possible, of course, and I'm sure the same thing happens in other places, not just Ireland, when women don't want their families to find out about a teenage pregnancy."

  Kara nodded. "Yes, you're right. It's probably happened in America, too. I guess the longer you keep a secret, the harder it must be to disclose it. I can't begin to imagine what it would be like to say to a boyfriend or fiancé or even husband, By the way, I had a baby when I was sixteen and it was adopted."

  "You didn't, did you?"

  Ryan's grin dissipated some of her tension, and she laughed. "No, I promise you I didn't."

  "It could be equally difficult for a man, you know. Imagine telling a girlfriend or fiancée or wife, By the way, I have three children by three different women."

  She widened her eyes in pretended shock. "You haven't, have you?"

  He chuckled. "Not as far as I'm aware." As they approached a road junction at the head of Killary Harbour, he glanced around at her. "We've plenty of time, so how about a detour up the Doolough pass? It's more scenic than the main road straight up to Westport."

  The narrower road followed the side of a lough for several miles, giving them stunning views of the bulky Maamturk mountains on the far side, dappled with the shadows of the puffy white clouds in the blue sky. Golden gorse and magenta rhododendron shrubs added splashes of colour to the varied shades of green all around them.

  "This is so beautiful," Kara breathed, relaxing as she enjoyed the scenery which helped to divert her mind from the meeting with Theresa. "Are we still in Connemara?"

  "Strictly speaking, Connemara is on the other side of the lough, and we're now in County Mayo, but the landscape is very similar."

  When the road turned north and climbed into a wilder area of steep-sided hills on both sides of a long, narrow lough, he went on, "This is Doo Lough, and there used to be a hunting lodge near here in the 19th century. During the Great Famine, the people from Louisburgh were told to report to the lodge the next day if they wanted to receive their ration of corn from the Poor Law officers. It was a cold, wet, windy day in March, and hundreds of starving people struggled to make the twelve-mile trek here. Many of them died en route, and probably a lot more as a result of their ordeal."

  Kara shook her head. "They must have been so desperate for food."

  "I sometimes wonder if one of my ancestors did the trek, and continued down to Galway."

  His comment reminded her of how little she knew about him. "Was that your father's ancestor or your mother's?"

  "My dad's family moved south from Achill Island sometime in the late 1840s. He's sure it was because of the famine. Mayo was one of the counties that suffered the most, because the population consisted mainly of poor smallholders who were dependent on potatoes. Here's the memorial stone," he added, and pulled onto the grass verge. "Want to take a closer look?"

  They walked about fifty yards across the rough grass to the Celtic cross memorial, and Kara looked back at the lough and the steep mountains surrounding it.

  "It's difficult to imagine what it must have been like for those people when the weather is so perfect today. Did they get the food they needed?"

  "No, the two Poor Law Guardians made them wait while they ate their four course lunch, and told them to return to Louisburgh. They weren't given any food, or tickets to allow them to enter the workhouse, either."

  "What unbelievable cruelty."

  "And the weather on the journey back was even worse. The wind funnelled up the valley, bringing freezing rain and hailstones, so many died of exhaustion or hypothermia. Some were so weak, the wind blew them off the track into the lough."

  Involuntarily Kara shivered. "I've changed my mind about this valley being pretty. If I believed in ghosts, I'd think it was haunted by all those poor souls." As a small cloud hid the sun for a few moments, she shuddered again.

  Ryan tightened his arm around her, and kissed her cheek. "Sorry, I didn't mean to depress you. Let's go, and I'll tell you another ancient story."

  After leaving the lough and the valley, the road crossed a wide area of open heathland, and he pointed to a mountain in the distance whose sloping ridge led to a conical-shaped peak.

  "That's Croagh Patrick. Legend says Saint Padraig himself fasted there for forty days and nights in the fifth century, and so it became an important place of pilgrimage. There's a small chapel at the top, and some people climb barefoot."

  "Why?"

  "Tradition, I suppose. On the last Sunday in July, thousands of people make the climb, including the local Archbishop, who conducts Mass at the summit." He chuckled. "It's the busiest day of the year for the mountain rescue team, who have to deal with cut feet, broken ankles, and either hypothermia or heat exhaustion, depending on the weather."

  "You should be a tourist guide and not just a taxi driver," Kara said without thinking, and glanced at him apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, but you're so knowledgeable about Irish history and customs."

  He shrugged. "Plenty of people know far more than I do. People who've lived up here all their lives."

  As he drove on, he told her a few more local tales, including several stories about Grace O'Malley, Mayo's notorious pirate queen. At Louisburgh, they turned along the road that skirted the southern edge of Clew Bay, and arrived in Westport just after midday.

  "I thought we'd have
lunch in one of the pubs here in the town before we go to the harbour," Ryan said as he found a parking place on the tree-lined street by the side of the river.

  Now they were in Westport, Kara's nerves tightened again, and she wasn't sure she could eat anything, but she managed a bowl of potato and leek soup with some crusty bread, while Ryan had a toasted sandwich with potato wedges.

  As they finished their food, she glanced at her watch. Nearly one o'clock, an hour until her meeting with Theresa.

  "You look worried," Ryan said.

  "Is it obvious?" She gave him a tentative smile. "I should be looking forward to meeting Theresa, but I'm so nervous. She sounded okay on the phone, maybe a little strained, but I was, too. But what if the whole conversation with her is stilted and formal, and I find I can't relate to her on any level?"

  "I'm thinking it's perfectly natural to feel apprehensive, and I bet she's feeling the same. But here's a question. How will you recognise her?"

  Kara grinned. "You mean if the Harbour Café is full of elderly women sitting on their own? I told her I'd wear a red jacket, and she said she would be wearing a green coat."

  "She might be regretting that now the weather has warmed up. Do you want to go to the quay now, or would you like to see more of the town?"

  "How far is the quay from here?"

  "Only a few minutes. We can sit on one of the benches overlooking the harbour if you need some time to relax."

  Grateful for his understanding, she nodded. "Let's go."

  He drove through the town, and Kara's eyes widened when he turned into a straight road with a long row of four-storey stone buildings on their left, and the harbour on their right.

  "I thought it would be something like Claddagh harbour, with small cottages. This is completely different."

  Ryan nodded. "All these were once warehouses, because this used to be a flourishing west coast port, hence its name. Now the harbour's a recreational centre for sailing and fishing, and the warehouses have been converted into holiday apartments and shops and cafes."

  As he pulled into a parking place, Kara pointed to a green signboard above a wide window and glass door. "And there's the Harbour Café."

  She collected her red jacket from the back seat of the car but didn't put it on as they walked to one of the wooden benches in a grassy landscaped area overlooking the water.

  "You can see Achill Island from here," Ryan said, indicating a low hill in the far distance. "It's on the other side of Clew Bay. I'll take you there one day, because I think you might be interested in the ruins of a deserted village."

  "Do you think that's where your ancestors once lived?"

  "Possibly. The villagers abandoned it because they had to find food somewhere else."

  Kara shot a wry grimace at him. "Aren't there any happy stories in Ireland's history? Everything you've told me today seems like doom and gloom."

  "In that case, I won't tell you about the Clew Bay drowning, but I can't recall any myths or legends that end happily. Our Irish history is full of battles and disasters, but I can tell you some Irish jokes, if you want."

  She giggled. "Go on."

  He reeled off several corny jokes in a thick Irish accent until she was helpless with laughter but eventually she checked her watch. Ten minutes before two. His jokes had relaxed her, but now her stomach somersaulted again. "I think we should go to the café now."

  His eyes widened. "We? Do you want me to come with you?"

  "Please. I don't think I can do this on my own."

  "Okay, but be sure to ask Theresa if she doesn't mind me being there."

  She slipped on her red jacket as they crossed the road, and he held open the glass door for her. The serving counter was in front of them, and she glanced around at the dozen or so small square tables on her right. Each was covered with a pale green cloth, and surrounded by four wooden chairs, painted in different pastel colours. A young woman with two small children sat at one of the window tables, an older couple were sharing a seafood platter, and two middle-aged women sipped coffee from tall glass mugs.

  She turned to Ryan. "She's not here yet."

  "Will I get our drinks now, or do you want to wait until she arrives?"

  Kara's heart missed a beat as she caught a glimpse through the door of someone in a pale green summer coat crossing the road toward the café. "I think this is her." With a start, she realised she'd expected someone who resembled her mother with mid-brown hair, but this woman had a longish face with curly black hair. Of course, it could be permed and dyed.

  Ryan opened the door for the woman.

  "Thank ye," she said, and turned to Kara. "And I'm thinking ye must be Kara?"

  Kara held out her hand. "I'm so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Brogan."

  "Ach, call me Theresa. Everyone does."

  "And this is my friend Ryan. He's driven me here today."

  "How are ye, Ryan?"

  "Grand, and yourself? Would you like a drink?"

  "Well now, a cup of tea would be very welcome, thank ye."

  He raised his eyebrows at her. "Kara?"

  "Cappuccino, please."

  "So find yourselves a table and I'll bring the drinks over."

  As Kara headed for one of the tables near the window, Theresa touched her arm. "I'd rather not sit by the window, if ye don't mind. How about the table over in the corner instead?"

  "Yes, of course."

  When they reached the table, Theresa struggled with her coat, and Kara helped her.

  "Today's too warm for a coat, isn't it?" the older woman said. "I niver thought about the weather when I said what I'd be wearing. Perhaps I should've said I'd put a carnation in me hair or somethin' silly like that. An' I hope you don't mind not sitting by the window, on'y I don't want anyone to see me here. Not that I'm likely to meet someone who knows me, but ye can't be too sure, can you? Now, that's better."

  She slipped her coat over the back of her chair and sat down. Kara sat opposite her and smiled. "It's so good of you to come all this way to meet me."

  "Me husband plays golf on Wednesdays, and I told him I was visiting a friend in the hospital in Castlebar, but t'wasn't a lie, 'cause she is in the hospital, and I'll pop in an' see her on me way home. She's got a heart problem, ye see. Anyhow, ye don't want to know about all that. Tell me 'bout yerself."

  "I'm not sure where to begin," Kara faltered. Theresa had made it clear she didn't want to be seen here, which presumably meant her family and friends knew nothing about her past life. Any hope of reuniting her with her daughter was fading fast.

  "Ye said yer mam was born at Ballykane." Theresa looked over her shoulder, as if to make sure no one was listening, and leant forward. "Would that be at the home?"

  "Yes, I think so."

  "An' do you know her date of birth?"

  "I thought it was April 2nd, 1959, but I've discovered the wrong date was entered on her adoption certificate. I met with Sister Gabriel and—"

  "Sister Gabriel? Oh, Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph, ye've met Bernie? Bernadette O'Brien?"

  "Yes, a few weeks ago, and she said if ever I managed to make contact with you, she would love to hear from you."

  "Well, now, that takes me back, it does. Bernie O'Brien, would yer believe it?" Theresa laughed. "Me and her used to get into all kinds of trouble with the nuns, ye see, an' then she became one of 'em. That was a shock, I can tell ye. She hated those nuns as much as I did. What did she tell you?"

  "You mean about why she became a nun?"

  "I bet they brainwashed her, with their talk of doing penance and all that shite. Don't get me wrong, I still go to Mass every Sunday, 'cause it's what you do, i'nt it? An' I know I should forgive those nuns, but I can't. 'Cept for Sister Monica. She was different, so sweet and kind, and she didn't treat us like dirt like the other nuns did."

  "Sister Gabriel – Bernadette – told me about her. It was when Sister Monica died that she decided to become a nun, and tried to help the girls in the same way."

&nbs
p; "And is she still in Ballykane?"

  "No, she lives at the convent that adjoins the hospital in Galway."

  "Mebbe I will contact her again, then, seein' she's not in Ballykane. I can allus tell me husband I knew her when I was a child, if he asks."

  Kara's initial suspicions were confirmed. This woman, her grandmother, if indeed that was what she was, had hidden her secret from her family. She looked up as Ryan approached the table with a tray. After he put the tea and cappuccino in front of them, he straightened up. "I'll take my tea to another table and let you continue your conversation."

  "No need for that, lad," Theresa said. "Sit yerself down. I'm guessin' ye know all this story anyway."

  "Ryan's friend found out your address for me," Kara explained. "And he found the birth records, too."

  "Bernie's baby died. Did she tell you?"

  "Yes, and she said your daughter was adopted when she was one year old."