Her Revolution

by Gemma Jackson

  “I left the farm early with Uncle Rolf’s blessing and financial help.” Pieter stared at this strange woman who was his sister. The tiny baby he remembered all grown up. “The farm will pass to Dieter as the eldest son. That is right, how it should be. I did not wish to spend my life working for my brother, needing to ask his permission for every little action. That is not the kind of life I wish to live.” Pieter pushed the tea away when he smelled the coffee brewing.

  “Uncle Rolf gave me the name of your company.” Finn felt she needed to get that fact out in the open straight away. “I wouldn’t say he tricked me – exactly. I contacted you because you were listed as one of the most innovative companies.”

  “So Rolf assured me.” Pieter leaned back in his chair, wondering what he could say that would make this tense woman relax. He wanted nothing from her. He simply wanted to know about her. “I am what you might call ‘a big noise’.” He grinned with a shrug.

  “So I’m talking to the top dog?” Finn was willing to go along with Pieter’s attempt to lighten the moment.

  “Very much top dog.” Pieter struck a pose. “I am almost famous.”

  Finn told herself to relax. She was being too suspicious. She’d agreed to meet this man and now it was up to her to treat him with the manners her fathers had drilled into her.

  “My Uncle Dolph works behind the scenes as an adviser on many programmes on German television,” he went on. “A building programme is very popular. Uncle Dolph uses my products a great deal in this programme. He does not do this because we are related but because of the quality of my firm’s products.” Pieter was sorry he’d started this now. He sounded as if he were boasting which was the last thing he wanted to do. “I am sorry. I am talking too much. I am nervous.”

  Finn could see Pieter was desperately trying not to upset her in any way. “Let’s try and be open and honest with each other,” she said. “If one of us is having a problem we will say so, OK?”

  “OK.”

  “In the meantime, are you hungry?”

  “I am starving.” Pieter laughed. “My stomach was tied in so many knots I have not eaten for a long time.”

  “I’ll going to make you an Irish Breakfast. You’ll like it.” Finn had everything ready to hand.

  Pieter watched her set the kitchen island for breakfast. “You did not wish to visit Germany with your family?”

  “No, I am not ready to make that trip.” Finn was beginning to see this man less as a copy of Rolf and more his own man.

  “What do you enjoy doing? Rolf showed me photographs of your improvements – your plastering and painting work on this house.” He’d been warned not to mention her artwork too early in this their first meeting.

  “I enjoyed learning how to do many different things when I remodelled this house. I love plastering – it reminds me of icing a cake.”

  While Finn watched over the food cooking, they discussed different architectural styles they admired, finding their tastes remarkably similar.

  Finn put the food on the table then sat down to join him. “Pieter, why are you here?” Talking over food was the best way she knew.

  “It is time, ja?” Pieter picked up his knife and fork. “I have no words to explain why I am here. When I accepted your phone calls to my company I knew who you were. I treated you as a potential customer but you are family to me. I remember the baby sister that was taken away never to return.”

  “Pieter –”

  “No, let me tell it, please.” Pieter had tried to practise what he should say. “I have a need for family. Yes, there is a mother and a brother but we are not close. I have many uncles and cousins yet always I think and wonder about the sister I don’t know. You, Finn, have always been a missing part of my life. I can explain it no better than that. I have a wonderful wife and four children I love. I am a happy lucky man. Perhaps I need to share this happiness. I don’t know.”

  Finn didn’t know what to say.

  “Our mother, Ingrid,” he shrugged when she went to interrupt, “is a hard woman. I do not know if the loss of her husband made her this way but it is fact. I love and respect my mother but I do not like her. It is so with Dieter my brother – we have never been as close as I would wish.” Pieter didn’t want to prejudice her against her close relations. He wanted only to make her understand his point of view. “I liked farming. I love the countryside and the animals, but I could not support Dieter’s treatment of me. I had to leave. Dieter forced my leaving, yet he has never forgiven me for deserting the family farm.” He shrugged.

  “Do your children visit the farm?” Finn offered Pieter more coffee and poured.

  “Yes, I did not cut ties to my family. My children visit out of duty but it will not continue. They are not treated with kindness.” Pieter tried to make Finn understand. “My wife does not like to visit the family farm. Gerta does not like my mother or Dieter – she takes my part.”

  “Ronan desperately wants family.” Finn worried her son might be disappointed.

  “Ronan is being treated with great kindness. He is visiting royalty. He came with Rolf. Rolf is my mother’s favourite big brother – he lives to give – Ingrid lives to take. They get on well together. She would never allow Rolf to see her for the woman she really is. Emmet sees this and stays away.” He looked down at the table. “I am ashamed to speak so of my mother.”

  “Well, they say you can choose your friends but not your relatives.” Finn didn’t know what to add. She didn’t know the people he was talking about.

  “This is true.” Pieter hoped he hadn’t given too bad an impression of his family. He wanted there to be truth between Finn and himself. He hadn’t been sleeping well, terrified and excited about this trip to see the sister he’d never known. He’d kept her memory alive through the years, hoping for this moment.

  Chapter 29

  Pieter tried to catch his breath. The wind off the sea was strong and cold. The salt particles in the moisture-driven wind stung exposed flesh. “So this is Bray and those are the houses you contacted me about – they present a great challenge.”

  “Yes, they do.” Finn hadn’t known what to do with this stranger. They couldn’t sit around the house looking at each other. She had brought him to Bray on the DART. The coastal train journey was breathtakingly beautiful. She’d thought to give him a chance to see a little of Ireland and at the same time see the dark dingy cottages belonging to Rolf and her da.

  “When I contacted your firm I believed I would start work immediately.” She put her arm through his when he offered his bent elbow even though he was slightly shorter than her. They had bonded over those dilapidated cottages. The man was so knowledgeable. “Then Rolf fell in love and wanted them recorded for posterity.”

  “I have seen the many films he has shot.” Pieter didn’t care about the custom he might get from those buildings. It had been a pleasure to watch his sister relax in his company as she had sought his opinion.

  “I enjoy a brisk walk,” Finn said as they bent almost double to fight the strength of the wind pushing against them. “I thought you might like some fresh air after being in airports, a plane and those dark and dusty cottages.”

  “I too enjoy walking. This is a beautiful place.”

  They turned to lean against the Victorian rail that ran along the seafront. It gave them a moment to catch their breath. They stood enjoying the view out over the white-capped waves of the Irish Sea.

  “You must tell me when you have had enough,” she said. “We can turn back at any time.”

  They continued walking along the Victorian promenade towards the cliffs. Finn knew that after a short climb the road they were on straightened out, following the cliffs over the sea in a magnificent walk. She loved it and had taken it many times with little fingers holding tight to her skirts. She dragged in great deep breaths of the fresh sea-scented air. The path, cut into the cliffs high over the ocean, was beaten bare by the many feet that passed over it.

  “Will you
show me your nutjobs?” Pieter stared down at the seagulls making their homes in the cliffs beneath their feet – the birds wheeled and swooped, white against the blue sky.

  “What do you know about my nutjobs?” That was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

  “I too like to work with metal.” Pieter had seen many images of the figures his longed-for sister had produced. He wanted to own one. He wanted to share his knowledge of metalwork with her. Would she allow him to visit her workshop? Was it too soon to ask?

  “I might pick your brain on that subject too,” she responded.

  They walked along in silence for a while, each enjoying the natural beauty that surrounded them. The fields stretched out on one side of them. Goats clambered and ran around fleetly on the bare rocks on the higher ground. Sheep and horses grazed the green, green grass on the lower cliff. Birds twittered madly in the bushes. It was soul food.

  “I am sorry I am not as Uncle Rolf – always a camera to hand.” Pieter took deep breaths of the salt laden air. “I thought the train journey beautiful. I was afraid to blink my eyes in case I missed something. How will I ever be able to describe this to my Gerta?”

  Finn loved the way he spoke of his wife. She stepped off the path to allow people going in the opposite direction to pass. Then she dropped down onto the wide grass verge, inviting Pieter to join her. It was cold but they were both well wrapped up. They sat in silence and watched the antics of the waves and the screeching gulls that wheeled over them. People out for a walk strolled past with a casual nod in their direction. She allowed the silence to deepen. It was not uncomfortable. She had no idea what to say at this point. She lay back on the grass and stared unblinking at the sky. She watched big fat white clouds chase each other.

  Then a dark cloud crossed over the sky, darkening the day and threatening rain.

  “We’d better start back.” Finn stood, brushing off the seat of her jeans. She held out a hand and pulled Pieter to his feet.

  “I have enjoyed this very much.” He fell into step beside her.

  “I think you will also enjoy visiting an Irish pub.” Finn shivered. “I can feel an Irish coffee calling my name.”

  “You have coffee that speaks?”

  She laughed and put her arm through his offered elbow. “On a day like today an Irish coffee is perfect for blowing the chill away. That is only my opinion – we will see what you think.”

  They retraced their steps. They hadn’t reached Greystones, the final destination of the walk they’d been on, which she thought a shame. She’d been looking forward to sharing the train journey from Greystones to Bray – another beautiful coastline railway trip. Ah well – perhaps another time.

  Finn pushed open the door to one of the many pubs close to Railway Parade and across the green from the sea. She enjoyed Pieter’s exclamation of delight. In no time they were sitting on comfortable chairs in front of a roaring fire. Pieter’s eyes were everywhere. He couldn’t seem to take enough in.

  “I must bring my Gerta here.” He picked up the stemmed glass, holding the Irish coffee Finn ordered. He took a sip through the thick cream that formed a crown over the black coffee. His eyes widened at the first sip. “This is wonderbar!”

  He sounded so much like Rolf with his ‘vonnderbar’ that Finn laughed aloud. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Coffee and cream.”

  “There is more.” He took another sip and licked his lips to remove the moustache of thick cream that had formed on his upper lip.

  “A good dollop of Irish whiskey,” she said. “And a little sugar.”

  “You know how to make this?” He held up the half-empty glass.

  “Yes.”

  “You will teach me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Gerta –” he closed his eyes in ecstasy, “I will make this for her. She will love me even more.” He jumped to his feet. “We will have more! They are small.”

  Finn sat back in her fireside chair and smiled. The whiskey was strong – more than two and they’d be rolling her out of the place. They had the pub almost to themselves. There were not many people about on a dark cold afternoon.

  It was easy to sit here with this man who was a stranger yet related to her by blood. The surroundings allowed them to feel free perhaps? She didn’t know. She only knew she was enjoying his company.

  Pieter was being skillfully interrogated by the barman. She closed her eyes and put her head back, listening to the two men laugh and joke, enjoying the blazing log fire.

  “Finn,” Pieter was standing over her, thinking she was asleep.

  She snapped open sparkling green eyes to ask, “Have you given the man your seed, breed and generation?”

  “Bitte?”

  “Sorry!” He looked so much like Rolf that she had assumed he would know the phrases her da used all the time. “It means that you have been interrogated in a nice Irish way.”

  “Ja, I tell him everything. He will bring the drinks.” He sat down and with a worried frown bent forward. “Finn, I would like to ask …”

  “Yes?”

  “I need to telephone my wife – my Gerta – she is worried I will not be welcome here.” He’d had to promise to telephone as soon as he knew what his reception would be. He had delayed – Gerta would be worried. She had wanted to accompany him but he had wanted this first meeting with his sister alone. She had understood.

  “Oh, the poor woman!” Finn knew what it was to worry about people you love travelling away from you. “Call her this instant.” Then she put her hand on his knee to stop him for a moment. “You do know I speak fluent German?” They had been conversing exclusively in English. She would not like him to think he was having a private conversation with his wife when she could understand every word said.

  “Wonderbar!” His smile almost split his face. “You can talk with my Gerta – she will be so pleased. She was worried her English was not good enough.”

  It was a happy man who telephoned Germany. He didn’t bother to lower his voice as he told his wife of all the wonders he had seen so far. He promised faithfully that the next time he came to Ireland his family would come with him.

  Finn sat listening with half an ear. She didn’t want to be rude. His almost childish delight in everything he had seen and done was wonderful or ‘vonnderbar’ as he would say.

  “Finn has promised she will teach me to make the Irish Coffee, Gerta.” He passed the phone to Finn. “My Gerta, she wishes to speak to you.”

  Finn took the phone.

  “Danke – vielen Dank, Finn,” Gerta said with tears in her voice. She switched to English. “You have made him so very happy. I was so afraid. He is a wonderful man. Thank you.”

  “I look forward to meeting you and your family one day in the near future,” Finn said in her practically perfect German.

  “What will you two do now?”

  “We will have fish and chips from the local chip shop and walk along the seafront fighting the breeze and the gulls for our food! We are getting to know each other, Gerta. I will look after him for you.”

  “Vielen Dank, Finn.”

  Finn passed the phone back to Pieter just as the barman brought the fresh drinks.

  It had been a surprising visit so far. It seemed she might have found a brother.

  Chapter 30

  Finn walked along the stalls of the local weekend market, searching for what she didn’t know. She was proud of herself. She was surviving, putting one foot in front of the other, and it felt like a triumph some days. Today she was feeling slightly adrift. In past years the time leading up to Christmas would have been frantic. She’d have been buried under the details of staging events and selecting gifts. This year she decided to ignore the holiday.

  There would be no presents to worry and fuss over. She’d not bother decorating the house. She wouldn’t spend her holiday period in the kitchen preparing mountains of food. There would be no drunken fools to entertain for Patrick. The relief at that thought sur
prised her. The house would remain clean without constant effort on her part – her Christmas alone would be a time of peace and joy.

  “Finn!” a voice called out. “Finn – Mrs Brennan!”

  She turned at the sound of her name.

  “You look away with the fairies, Finn!”

  “Maggie! I didn’t know you had a stall here!” She stepped over to stand in front of a stall piled high with colourful fabric.

  “Charles or my parents take the twins while I man the stall at weekends.” Maggie waved a hand over the many items displayed on the waist-high table in front of her. She leaned closer to whisper. “This time of year I hope to make enough to pay Santa.”

  “I love these patchwork baby blankets.” Finn fingered one of the charming items. “Is all of your work patchwork?”

  “I can turn my hand to most things to do with sewing.” Maggie smiled at a woman examining the items on the stall. She allowed the woman to look – she didn’t like to jump on people as soon as they stopped at her stall.

  “I could make you a brace to go along the back of the stall,” Finn looked at the bare area behind Maggie’s head. “You could hang your work – really show it off – it’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” Maggie blushed. “What have you been doing with yourself? I haven’t heard from you in a while.” The people around her stall started calling for information. “But, look, we can’t talk here. Why don’t you meet me at the Silver Swan later and we’ll have a chat?” Maggie needed to pay attention to the potential customers right now.

  “Oh, I can’t – I must get home – I’d better let you get back to work.” She was in the way of paying customers.

  She walked away from the stall, wondering why she’d refused a drink. She could go out in the evening. There was no one waiting for her. She could stay out without asking permission or planning for someone to take care of her family. When would that penny finally drop? She was free to do as she pleased.