The Lane

by Maura Rooney Hitzenbuhler

  “I passed a water tap on my way here. Why are the toilets on one end and the water tap on the opposite end?”

  “I don’t know who came up with that poor design. The people here are living like our parents and grandparents did.”

  “Even our grandparents didn’t share toilets with non-family members! This is too primitive for me. Do I need to go to the water tap to discard this water?”

  “No, there’s a circle of stones in the yard. Just throw the water there. There’s earth under the stones for the water to sink down into.”

  “Francis must be a very neat fellow. This place is spotless,” Sheila commented. “When does he arrive home?”

  “Francis doesn’t live here anymore.”

  “I’m confused. He didn’t mention that to me when I was at the farm. You were dating Browne, and you’re now living in Egan’s cottage?”

  “Yes. I thought I loved Harry and believed he loved me. It was all an illusion. Although he never actually said he loved me, he was talking about plans for our marriage and of buying a house. He had it all planned, and he showed me a house that he knew for a fact, he said, would be up for sale in the next couple of months. The owners were planning to move to Austria. He said it would be our house.

  “When I told him I was pregnant, he was unpleasantly surprised. He said I, being a nurse, should have handled that end of things. He asked why I wasn’t on the pill. How would I have access to it? It’s illegal here.

  “‘That has never stopped anyone from getting the damn pill,’ he said. ‘London’s a 45 minute flight from here. Every girl I know uses it, that is, everyone but you.’

  “When he said ‘every girl he knows’ uses it, I felt a shiver of shame. I was one of the many, and the stupidest of the lot. As though the situation wasn’t bad enough as things stood, I made them worse by crying. He then put his arm around me, and said I should give him a few days and he’d leave ‘the necessary’ in an envelope with the bartender at The Mouse That Roared.”

  “What necessary?”

  “A boat ticket to England, and the name and address of someone who’ll take care of things,” he said.

  “A boat ticket! Not a plane ticket? How very cheap of him!” Sheila injected.

  “Yes, a boat trip and an abortion! What he was saying was now becoming clear to me.”

  “‘Don’t blame me,’ he had answered. ‘If you had used protection you wouldn’t be in the spot you are.’ Then he left.”

  “Did you go to The Mouse That Roared?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t speak to the bartender. I couldn’t go that route. Instead I saw a man sitting alone on a bar stool and went over and sat on the empty stool next to him. I began a conversation, which was difficult. He was definitely a man of few words and with none to spare. With prodding from me, we met again the next evening I had off. After I’d been seeing him for almost three weeks, I prolonged the evening and told him I’d just missed the last bus back to my flat. Francis said he had his van outside and would drive me there.”

  “So you picked the most handsome fellow in the bar?”

  “I picked someone who appeared to be the most approachable man there, and one who was alone. Francis was the opposite of Harry, who had pressured me into my first sexual encounter. It was I who enticed Francis. I did a dreadful thing to him by passing off the parentage of the child from Harry to Francis. I couldn’t bring myself to destroy a life, and I needed a name for this child and a birth certificate that hadn’t ‘illegitimate’ stamped across it.”

  “Harry treated you horribly!” Sheila said between spoonfuls of stew.

  “That was not a good reason for me to have treated Francis so shamefully. Word got to Francis that it was Harry who had impregnated me. It was, in all probability, Harry who told Francis. Francis walked out, not to return.”

  “You must hate them both.”

  “Harry wasn’t the person I thought him to be. I was so naïve. I was merely caught up in Harry’s words and plans for us, and the illusion of love. Francis is an honest and decent person; I was his illusion. I destroyed his trust in me just as I realized I loved him.”

  “Maybe he’ll come back. It is his house!”

  “No, he won’t be back. I remember how he looked when he left.” A silence fell.

  “You’ve made a great stew, Kate. Francis is missing out on a scrumptious meal,” Sheila lightly added, to soften the dense air that clamped down around them. “I’ll spend the night, if you’d like me to.”

  “Thank you, Sheila that would be great.”

  “They haven’t allowed you to continue working at the hospital, have they?”

  “No, I had to resign when I got pregnant.”

  “Yes, the hospital’s idiotic rule.”

  “I could have managed to have worked much longer since I didn’t show. It was the morning sickness, I believe, that gave me away. I don’t know why it’s called morning sickness, as it stuck around until mid afternoon. I couldn’t eat until about three o’clock in the afternoon, and then I was ravenously hungry. When the Mother Superior called me into her office, I knew it was a bad omen. She wouldn’t even let me finish the week. I knew I was clutching at straws when I asked if I could work in the nursery. After all, babies wouldn’t object to my pregnancy, but she told me that wasn’t an option. She accused me of being underhanded by not following the hospital rules and informing her of my condition immediately.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Sitting before a breakfast of rashers and eggs, tea and scones, Sheila asked, “What are your plans after the baby is born? Do you intend to continue living here?”

  “I don’t have much choice. Soon I’ll have an infant to take care of. This is a safe place to raise a child, and I’ve grown attached to this cottage of inconveniences.”

  “You could sell it and move into a flat with all amenities.”

  “Sell this cottage! No. Beside this is still Francis’ cottage, and it certainly is that in the eyes of the lane people.”

  “Is it also that you’re hoping Francis will come back?”

  “There is a bit of that. However, if Francis is to come back, it won’t be for me. That’s over and done with as far as he’s concerned. Then, of course, he could come back to sell the cottage! He’s not living here, why should he not sell the cottage?”

  “Don’t even think that. You’re one of the more fortunate ones, Kate. You’re pregnant and living in Dublin and accountable to nobody, rather than in some small town where you would be unable to keep your baby.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be able to keep it?”

  “Most unwed mothers don’t have that option.”

  “They don’t?”

  “Kate, you remember Nancy from back home?”

  “Nancy, who lived across from Leary’s pub? Yes, I do remember her. She had a very strange mother. After Nancy left to stay with her aunt in Cork, I asked her mother for Nancy’s address so I could write to her. Her mother said, ‘If Nancy wished to keep in touch with me, she knew where I lived,’ then rudely added, ‘Nancy would be making a whole lot of new friends in Cork.’”

  “O Lord, Kate, think about it. We knew Nancy all our lives. She never spoke of an aunt in Cork, nor did she or her family ever visit Cork in all the years we had known her, until the day she suddenly left. Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”

  “Why would she say she was going to visit her aunt in Cork if she wasn’t?”

  “I need another cup of tea. Kate, the flame on this stove has gone down.” Kate put two shillings in the gas meter and the flame rose. When the water came to a boil, Sheila added water to the tea leaves and let it steep. “More tea for you, Kate?”

  After pouring the tea, Sheila addressed the subject.

  “Nancy was pregnant.”

  “She was? Did she have a boy or a girl?”

  “Whatever she had doesn’t matter. Nancy was sent to one of those homes for unwed mothers to have her baby. The child would have been put up for adoption, and she�
��d never again see it.”

  “What if Nancy wanted to keep her baby?”

  “Pregnant girls in these homes don’t have that choice. The children are taken from them. They have no say in the matter.”

  “That’s horrible,” Kate said with a look of sorrow crossing her face.

  “Ignorance and intolerance is what is horrible.”

  “You’re only three years older than me. How do you know so much about these things?”

  “My father, the politician. No, not directly from him did I get the information. My eavesdropping began by accident after I overheard my father and the others, those who rule their very small corner of the world, speak of pregnant girls being discreetly hustled off to have their babies, who would be given up for adoption. My father thought I was engrossed in a book on Thursday evenings when he and his colleagues met. That, however, was when I would listen in on their conversation.” Sheila brought Kate into a world Kate had never known existed.

  “After the war,” Sheila continued, “there were hundred of thousands of displaced orphans in Europe. It started with the American G.I. Then Americans in general began adopting Italian, French, German, and English children. Americans were seen not only as the liberators of Europe, they soon became the saviors of the abandoned orphans the war produced by adopting them.”

  “Why did they not adopt American children from orphanages in America? Remember that film, we saw called ‘Boys Town’ with Spencer Tracy?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was a place for homeless boys. I figure they must have had a similar place for orphan girls,” Kate suggested.

  “I believed Americans wanted to adopt babies, not older children, and European children appealed to them.”

  Sheila drank some tea.

  “After the war, Germany immediately began to rebuild. Women, young and old, and every child of school age, and whatever men were available, joined in scraping off bricks from bomb-demolished buildings and placing them in a pile for reuse. Then a lorry would come, the people would put them in, and the bricks would be driven to a building site. Soon the German government prohibited the adoption of their children by non-German people. Like Germany, France and other countries having suffered huge population losses as a result of the war, moved to protect their children, setting up regulations which would prevent outside adoption of their young citizens.

  “I think it was 1948 when the UK forbade foreign nationals from adopting British children. Americans turned to Ireland, just a short flight away, and it became a happy hunting ground for well-to-do Americans and sometimes for people who wanted to hold their marriage together. These Irish babies were classified as war orphans, yet Ireland had been neutral throughout WWII.”

  “So why did we let ours be adopted?”

  “Poverty,” Sheila answered. “Now in the ’50s it isn’t much better but in the ’40s, Ireland was a desolate country. Because of her neutrality, Ireland alone did not share in any of the huge sums of money America poured into the postwar development of Europe. Ireland was predominantly rural. Church and State, hand in hand, ruled the country and enforced its strict moral code. Chastity was demanded of everyone who wasn’t married. Of course, women alone paid the price for their indiscretions. High unemployment and low wages kept the marriage rate woefully low. Men simply couldn’t afford to take wives and children. With Ireland’s poor economy, the government could ill support those children who should not, according to our moral code, have existed. Our government continued to export children for adoption overseas even at a time of mass emigration and a declining population. Once started, it was difficult to stop.”

  “Why didn’t the mothers protest?”

  “In our male-oriented society?” Sheila gave a bitter laugh. “There was an appalling stigma attached to illegitimacy, thereby forcing the women to join the Church and government in concealment, deception and denial. Even the girls’ families were scandalized by a pregnancy before marriage.”

  “I, too, concealed and deceived. My family still doesn’t know I’m pregnant.”

  “You were fortunate, Kate, in that you were not in a small town when it happened. Dublin was always more open, more cosmopolitan. Where we lived, girls never got pregnant. They went to visit a relative, when in actuality, they entered homes for unwed mothers. These homes have a frightening reputation, and young girls are punished for their ‘sins’ by cleaning and scrubbing in these homes or working the land.

  “The authorities frequently disposed of children without consulting or informing the mother beforehand. Other times, they were told people would be arriving to look over the babies, and that they should wash them and dress them in the new clothes they were given on such occasions.”

  “Why didn’t these women run away from those horrible places?” asked Kate.

  “They weren’t permitted beyond the gates. Some did try to escape but were always brought back by the police. And if they had succeeded, where would they have found sanctuary?”

  “What happened to the women after their babies were taken from them? Where did they go?”

  “Some married and had other children without ever telling their husbands about the baby that had been taken from them because their shame was so great. That hidden secret took a heavy toll. Others went overseas to work and built lives in exile. Some, however, never left the place of their imprisonment, never recovered psychologically from their experience and were never able to restart their lives.”

  Kate now understood her mother’s actions, yet she realized it was people who thought like her mother that helped this sorry plight exist for so many unfortunate women. Sheila had not only pushed Kate out of her own cocoon but made her realize how very fortunate she was. If she ever saw Francis again, she would thank him from the bottom of her heart.

  She was sorry to see Sheila leave. Their goodbyes were especially sad since Sheila was leaving the country.

  Kate phoned Kieran to inquire about getting a loan on her inheritance, which she would use to pay the taxes on the cottage.

  “Well, how is my little sister?”

  “I’m fine thanks. How are you? Breda and the children?”

  Kieran went into great details about his two young children. When Kate could get a word in edgeways, before running out of coins, she mentioned that she wanted an advance on her inheritance. Since her brother handled all the family’s legal affairs with the man who had been their father’s lawyer, perhaps he could speak to the lawyer concerning her request.

  “Are we being cut off?”

  “No. I’ve put in some more coins.”

  “Well, since you don’t have a telephone, I’ll get your address from Mom, and get back to you on this matter.”

  “No, she doesn’t have my address.”

  “She must. You sent her something. Yes, I remember, a card for her birthday. It’s good to know you’re all right. Glad you called. You really should get a phone installed, Kate. These pay phones are a terrible inconvenient method of communication. I’ll be in touch. Bye.”

  She had purposely refrained from putting her address on the card she had sent her mother. She would call Kieran back in a week. By that time he would know their mother didn’t have the address, and he might also have Dad’s lawyer’s response to her request. She would bring a fist full of coins with her. Of course, the details on all his daughters’ activities took time to relate, and the interruptions of inserting coins had kept him from asking her why she needed the money. On the next phone call, she knew, she would have to answer that question.

  A week later, Kate telephoned Kieran. After saying he hoped she was well, Kieran became very businesslike. He had spoken to the lawyer who was adamant in his response that the money could not be touched before its due date. Kieran wanted to know if she was living beyond her means! If so, he could go over her expenses and set a budget for her. If her finances were out of control, he urged her to come home until they were settled.

  She was well, she assured him. Altho
ugh disappointed that she could not draw on her inheritance, she told him she could manage. Would he have suggested she return home if he knew she was pregnant? Did he think she was so frivolous as to make a request for this money if it were not an emergency? His attitude angered her so much she shortened the conversation for fear of revealing too much and saying something she might later regret.

  Kate sold her watch and used that money and the remainder of her bank account to pay the tax bill on the cottage.

  A fortnight later, Kate received a very brief letter from Francis indicating he was leaving the country the following morning. He wished her well in all her endeavors and signed it simply, Francis.

  With the Metropole Cinema want advertisement in her hand, Kate applied for a job as a cleaning woman. It was a rainy day, and, wearing Francis’s shirt under her beltless raincoat to hide her expanding stomach, she was hired.

  All the cleaning women were considerably older than Kate, and they were aware of her advanced pregnancy. She joined the wave of women going from row to row of seats, constantly stooping to pick up candy wrappers, used food containers and other rubbish from between and under the seats as they hurried ahead of the male workers who came after them, vacuuming the carpeting. Other women cleaned the restrooms. Every other week, the women switched tasks.

  These women were mostly from a permanently poor class of people; some were single and others were married women with children, some of whom were near Kate’s age. They were a most cheerful group of women with keen wit and a lively sense of humor. They brought plenty of food for their mid-morning break, which they insisted on sharing with Kate. When she politely refused their generosity, they would insist, saying it was for the baby.

  After working a month, Mr. Caulfield, the cinema manager who had hired Kate called her into his office. To her relief, she was not being dismissed. One of the ticket sellers had to leave her job temporarily to take care of her sick father. Kate was being asked to sell tickets at the booth in front of the cinema. She gratefully accepted the job.