by Fox Brison
Elisha pointed out places of interest along the way until an hour later we were winding down the road leading toward Westport; the town was a beautiful. Sitting in a little dip, coloured houses gave way to Georgian inspired stone municipal buildings, and in the distance a snow-capped mountain owned the skyline, soaring over the landscape nestled below it. Triangular in shape, it never left my eye line for more than a few seconds.
“That’s Croagh Patrick,” Elisha imparted when she noticed I was staring at it.
“That’s Croagh Patrick?” I gasped. “And people climb it without any shoes?” It was granite grey and menacing. Proud. Rocky. Painful.
“Yep, Mayo has the highest ratio of podiatrists in the world,” she joked and I laughed. Elisha’s sense of humour was another of her wonderful attributes. She had so many I was beginning to lose count. “So what shall we do first?” she asked, pulling to a stop at a set of lights.
“I’m famished,” I said. Yeah I was like that. Beautiful views, stunning landscapes, but when my tummy rumbled I became hangry-ish.
“You ate two bags of Tayto’s, decimated a bar of whole nut chocolate, and inhaled a bag of Haribos on the drive over.” Elisha ogled me in astonishment. “How you’re not the size of a house, I’ll never know!” There was a wink to accompany the compliment. She realised I was nervous, and was doing her best to distract me.
In less than an hour I could potentially be having a chat with my uncle.
Just thinking about it, never mind doing it, was weird. Up until this moment everything we had done was online without any human element to it, like some sort of puzzle or game. Certainly not real. Definitely esoteric. Yet now I was here in Westport seeing the streets Maggie had probably walked every day, I experienced a tangible connection and was having palpitations because of it. I tapped my fingers on my thigh in an anxious tattoo, and bit the inside of my lower lip.
“Hey,” Elisha took my hand to stop the incessant drumming.
“Hey,” I replied softly.
“It’s going to be okay, I’m right here with you.”
“Thanks, Leesh. I can’t tell you how much that means.” Instantly soothed, I gave her a small smile in gratitude and she returned it tenfold.
***
We parked near the old wharfs and found the nearest restaurant for lunch. The view from the window was dominated by the conical shape of Croagh Patrick and seeing it up close and personal, even though I was miles away, made me understand Maggie’s references to being born strong, although for me Elisha’s Mountains were far more rugged and divine. Regarding her under half lidded eyes carrying a tray laden with soup and soda bread to our table, her biceps tightening beneath her shirt, she was the epitome of strength, both physically and emotionally.
The past few weeks she had become my rock.
I wouldn’t say I was introverted, because I wasn’t, cautious would have been the better word. I was always cautious about who I let into my life, meaning I had a relatively small circle of people I could count on in a crisis.
Elisha had somehow circumvented all of my usual shields in an Irish friendship hack. It was surprising but wonderful.
“So let me get this right, John Lennon owned an island near here?” I asked, trying not to slurp my soup.
“Uh huh. It’s in Clew Bay. There are over a hundred of them dotted around the bay. He bought his in the sixties… sixty seven I think,” Elisha said.
“Wow. Imagine,” I raised my eyebrows and she groaned, “Imagine, my Dad could be a Beatle! How cool would that be?”
“Well first, he only visited the island once, and secondly, he died four years before you were born. So that wouldn’t be cool, it would be a miracle.”
“It’s a pity; I think Yoko would have been a fierce Step-Mum!” I adjudged brightly.
Chapter 19
Brianna
I smoothed out the piece of paper lying in my lap: Mr Edward O’Shea, 12 Florence Court, Westport Road. The words weren’t quite as ominous as Brianna, my darling daughter, yet somehow…
Somehow they were equally as foreboding.
It was a nice two storey property, with a bright yellow door and four windows staring out over a small garden. It reminded me of a child’s drawing of a house, minus the tree and m shaped birds flying above. I didn’t have a style of building in mind because apart from a rare homogenous housing estate, most of the homes in Ireland were individual and distinct.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Elisha squeezed my hand.
I didn’t answer her question instead I pondered, “We don’t know why Maggie left home.” There were so many reasons why she may have left, and many of them were unpleasant to think about. It’s bizarre how your brain immediately flies to Hammer House of Horrors rather than Disney cartoons when faced with a stressful situation.
“No, we don’t, but that’s what we’re here to find out. Look, Bri, if you’re not ready or if you’ve changed your mind that’s okay. No one knows but us. You don’t have to do this today.”
“I do, Leesh.” I sat up straighter. “Because if I don’t I’m not sure I ever will.” The car doors shut with a clunk and a beep quickly followed.
“Ready?” She checked again and I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice.
We slowly walked up the front path to the door that was a shade above buttercup and one below migraine inducing. “Here goes nothing,” I said and rang the bell, which, by the way, played ‘The Sun’ll Come Out, Tomorrow.” Elisha and I looked at each other; we were the agape twins.
A small woman with dark hair answered, and guestimating her age I assumed it was Edward’s wife. “Hi, I was wondering if you could help me,” I began. “I’m looking for Edward O’Shea.”
She eyed me apprehensively. “Ted’s not here, he’s at work. Can I help? I’m Nora, his wife.”
I hadn’t thought this through and stood there like a plank. I had pictured the reunions you see on Long Lost Family; people were always at home on those shows and welcomed you with a smile and a hug. Thankfully Elisha was there to save me.
“My name’s Elisha Callery and this is Brianna McAteer. Brianna’s in Ireland researching her family tree, and we thought Edward might be able to help,” she explained.
“I’m not sure Ted would know anything. Who exactly are you looking for?” Her voice still owned an intimation of suspicion.
“A woman called Margaret O’Shea,” Elisha specified and it was like a light bulb going off.
“Margaret?” she exclaimed. “Sure, you’d better come in.” She ushered us into a small hall, and half stepped outside to check up and down the street in case any of the neighbours were watching. It was as if we were special branch here to investigate why in God’s name anyone would have a door that bright.
So not so much Long Lost Family and more Style Police!
“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked leading us into the kitchen.
“That’d be lovely, thank-you,” I replied politely, my heart rate slowing.
Nora put the kettle on. “I’ll call Ted and tell him to come home. He’s only around the corner,” she explained.
“I don’t want to cause your husband any trouble I can come back later.” I stood but Nora waved me back into the chair.
“Sure, he’d have been coming home for his dinner in half an hour anyway, it’s no bother.”
She left to make the call and I mouthed, “Oh my God,” to Elisha.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t think it was going to be this easy.” Hoped? Yes. Nora returned which ended our brief conversation, and the tea was barely made when the back door opened and a short man with a shock of red hair entered. Hmmm there’s not much of a family resemblance I thought.
“I hear you’ve been asking after my sister Margaret.” Ted didn’t beat around the bush, so I decided to take his lead.
“Yes, Mr O’Shea. My name is Brianna McAteer and I believe there’s a chance that I was given up for adopt
ion by your sister.” I suppose I could have been a little less blunt, but I was nervous. It would be a huge shock, however I couched it, and I was a proponent of ripping that plaster right off.
Nora practically keeled over, and Ted began pacing the room like a caged tiger. “I can’t, I just don’t believe it. How, Jesus when? Where?” he asked more to himself than anyone in particular, nevertheless I endeavoured to answer.
“My parents adopted me in Dublin. May I ask, when did you last see your sister Margaret?”
“Dublin?” Ted was shaking his head in disbelief. “She was in Supervalu yesterday buying Andrex. It was buy one get one free.”
“For the love of… this is probably why Margaret never settled down Ted the guilt, the shame,” Nora exclaimed.
Whoa there! It took me a few seconds to register precisely what they were saying. I gawped at Elisha whose eyes were open wide. Fuck! “Wait, your sister’s alive?” Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck’s going on?
“Of course Margaret’s alive, sure isn’t that why you’ve turned up here on my doorstep?” he asked belligerently. He glared at me like I was a good few sandwiches, a cake, and the tartan blanket short of a picnic.
“I’m sorry there’s been a mix up. The woman who gave birth to me died during the delivery.” This was excruciating. Nora and Ted looked like I’d given them a swift one/two combination of a poke in the gut with a cattle prod, followed by a whack over the head with a shovel.
“We’re very sorry to have wasted your time, and apologise if we’ve caused you any upset.” Elisha stood up signalling it was time to make a rapid exit.
“Upset? Lord give me strength!” he exploded. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you get your facts straight before knocking on people’s doors like a couple of stuttles! You could have given me a heart attack, sure.”
“I truly am sorry, Mr O’Shea,” I apologised as Elisha pulled on my arm and dragged me hurriedly from the kitchen. We departed with our tails firmly between our legs.
***
We had driven a good bit away from Edward and Nora’s house when Elisha pulled over and starting laughing. I thought she’d lost her mind. “Leesh! What the fuck was funny about that? Did you not see their faces?”
This made her worse. “Oh, Bri, I’m sorry, but when you asked Ted when he’d last seen Margaret and he said yesterday in Supervalu.” She howled.
I tried to remain decorous. However, that only lasted a few seconds. “Buying toilet paper of all things,” I guffawed at the absurdity of the situation. “In a BOGOF offer.” It may have been childish but the tension from my shoulders melted away. “And what was he going on about skittles for?”
“Skittles?” Elisha asked. “Oh you mean stuttles. He meant we were fools.”
“He had that right, didn’t he?” I said sarcastically, sobering the atmosphere.
Elisha wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. “I’m sorry it was a dead end, Bri.”
“I don’t know why I expected anything else. People spend years looking for family members, and here I was thinking I’d cracked it in a few weeks,” I groaned resignedly.
It may have been a Hail Mary shot, but I really believed I had hit the jackpot with my first roll of the dice. Wishful thinking perhaps because I wanted it done. I wanted to get my answers and then my life could go back to normal.
Even if I wasn’t sure what normal was anymore.
Chapter 20
Elisha
I pulled up outside the B&B Brianna had booked, but before I could get out of the car she held me in place. “Leesh, listen, I already have a double room booked, what’s the point of you paying sixty euro for another one?”
It was a valid point, but the offer was totally unexpected, and my shock was evident in every stammered and overly polite word of my response. “Oh… oh well… erm that’s very kind and thoughtful, Brianna, but I don’t want to intrude.” Sharing a house was one thing, but a room? Well that was quite another.
“Nonsense! Besides, the sixty quid you save will pay for a meal in that lovely restaurant we saw earlier down by the quay.”
Talk about Sophie’s choice. If I continued saying no, I was worried she might read something into it like, oh I don’t know, maybe I had feelings for her. And if I said yes? Well I was worried I wouldn’t be able to ignore my feelings for her.
Hold the bloody phone, do I have feelings for her?
I hated doing it but desperate times called for desperate measures. Maybe I could get out of this by brandishing the homophobe card.
“Bri, it might not be an option; Ireland’s a devoutly Catholic country and many people and establishments are still prejudiced.” I had no idea if (I looked up at the sign in hope) Westgate B&B was one of those establishments but I could only hope.
May the LGBTQAI gods strike me down in anger.
“Oh yes, I saw something about that on the news, involving a bakery, wasn’t it?” She didn’t wait for my reply. “Fuck em! They can’t stop us from sharing, and if they try I’ll threaten litigation.”
Okay that backfired. Had I truly expected Brianna to be anything but an ally? Not at all. Just. Fuck. The timing of her solidarity sucked!
***
It was just my luck that the proprietor, Carmel, could not have been more accommodating, and happily told us she had voted yes in the marriage referendum. She assumed Brianna and I were a couple and Brianna didn’t steer her straight.
Pardon the pun.
“How long have you two lovely girls been together?” Carmel cooed.
“Oooh, now you’re asking.” Brianna took my hand and entwined our fingers. “What is it, Darling?” She eyed me expectantly.
“We’ll be celebrating ten years in May.” I could hardly hang her out to dry could I, or we’d both appear… stuttles!
“Is that right? Sure you don’t look old enough.” Carmel was about to hand over our key when she paused. “How about a free upgrade? Our best suite isn’t booked tonight.”
“Carmel, I don’t know what to say, that’s so generous. Baby, isn’t that generous?” Brianna lilted as Carmel swapped the keys.
“Yes, too generous,” I objected.
“Think of it as an early anniversary present. The room has a beautiful roll top bath big enough for two.” She winked at me, and my cheeks began to burn. “Upstairs second door on the right,” she called as I practically dragged Brianna away from reception, which I realised half way up the stairs could have been misconstrued after the bath comment. However, the embarrassment may very well have been worth it because the room was spectacular, and the star of the show was a beautiful four poster bed the size of a football pitch.
At least there should be no accidental touching in that thing.
We settled into the room and although Brianna was putting on a brave face, I could tell she was bummed about how things panned out earlier.
“Bri, there’s one information resource we haven’t tried yet that might help us in our quest,” I said as she unpacked her bag. All of her clothes were immaculately pressed; mine were ironed, but just like cooking, it wasn’t my forte.
“Quest?” She laughed. “What are we...” She began making a humming noise and swiped her clenched fists from side to side. I think it was supposed to be the Star Wars light sabre thing, but was more like a garda on funny flour directing traffic. “The Guardians of the Galaxy?” Dorky, cute and totally mixing up her film franchises!
“Do you want to hear my idea or not?” I huffed.
“Sorry, go ahead,” she laughed.
“We need to tap into local gossip, and who are the biggest gossips in Ireland?”
“Builders,” she answered quickly. “I found out more in five minutes at Glancy’s yard than I did in five weeks living with you. And as for tea breaks on a Monday morning, those lads don’t know the meaning of too much information.”
“Well yes, but builder’s yards aren’t open on Saturday nights. I was thinking of the auld ones in the pub. We could do a crawl to
night and ask around if anyone knew of a Maggie O’Shea who left for Dublin at seventeen and never returned…dun dun duuuuun,” I sang.
“I’ve heard some excuses to go on the lash in my time but that one takes the biscuit!” She gave a throaty laugh which might have offended me, after all I thought it was a valid suggestion, but it didn’t; what it actually did was some rather wonderful things to my autonomic nervous system.
Goosebumps were, thankfully, the only visible response.
“I’m serious,” I said, feigning annoyance. I even crossed my arms.
“Fine, I guess it’s worth a shot,” she agreed reluctantly. I knew Brianna wanted an easy and expeditious ending to her search, but life was rarely that straightforward. It wasn’t a television show.
“It’s a good shot,” I emphasised.
“I suppose it’s better than knocking on stranger’s doors and giving them coronaries!” she said with a weary chuckle.
***
After dinner Brianna and I started our Westport pub crawl. By the end of the evening we’d been in eight pubs, and had talked to what felt like most of the town’s elderly population, but no one remembered a Maggie O’Shea, or at least not one who had left. A few mentioned Edward’s sister Maggie, which at first caused us embarrassment, but by pub number three we were back to the giggles! Unfortunately, they didn’t last and when closing time arrived, Brianna was feeling more dejected than ever. Maybe this hadn’t been such a fabulous idea after all.
“Look, bright side, we know who she isn’t,” I pointed out once we were back at the B&B. “When we go home we’ll take a few days to regroup and then try looking outside the box.”
“Outside the box?” Brianna perked up. Her eyes warmed to a blue and were lit by a glow. Curiosity perhaps.
“Yes. We could investigate middle named Maggie’s for starters.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” she hummed her agreement. “My friend Sam’s real name is Polly but she despised it so she uses her middle name instead.” One of her trademark yawns interrupted her flow. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry, but I’m shattered.” She began pulling off her jumper and then unbuttoning her blouse. “Do you want the bathroom first?” I quickly averted my eyes and turned to look out of the window.
