As Time Goes By
Page 22
‘You could understand how that could be,’ Breda said. ‘Many of the women who were once willing to adopt could have been widowed, or left with a husband so damaged or maimed, they were unable to work. And the war was still going on, and they couldn’t take any more children or babies, for they hadn’t room.’
‘I know, it’s understandable,’ Angela cried. Her voice had a shrill, panicky edge to it and her eyes shone with lurking tears as she went on, ‘But that was catastrophic for me and my baby.’
Angela threw off Breda’s hands as she tried to comfort her, and everyone in that room knew she was not merely telling her tale any more, but reliving it. They listened, spellbound yet heartbroken, as Angela recalled walking to the city centre, holding the basket with her arms breaking, for she didn’t dare take a tram where she might be recognised later, for she was going to do a heinous thing. She was going to take her new-born, vulnerable baby and leave her on the steps of the workhouse. Her baby was going to be sacrificed for the good of everyone else.
She knew it was wrong but didn’t know if it was a crime or not. If it was, and the police became involved, it wouldn’t do for fellow passengers to remember the crying of a new-born baby out in a black winter’s night, and many could give a good description of Angela, for her golden ringlets were very striking.
Tears were running unchecked down Angela’s face and her body was shaking all over. Although Breda was shocked to the core, her body ached to put her arms around Angela, but she couldn’t accept comfort from anyone. In her mind, Angela was in the little alleyway that led from Whittal Street to the back of the workhouse, hesitating to do what she had come to do. She couldn’t do it – no one would expect her to do such a thing to her new-born baby. But in the end she knew there was no alternative, and with a sob she placed the locket in the baby’s hand and watched her fingers close over it. Then she crept along the yard, placed the basket on the steps, rang the bell and ran like the very devil, as she had been advised to.
‘She ran to St Chad’s, as it was just yards away at the end of Whittal Street,’ Eileen said, for Angela could say no more. She had her head in her hands and was sobbing.
‘So, you saw Angela then?’ Maggie asked.
Eileen shook her head. ‘I was at home, trying to keep John’s supper warm, and John was over at the workhouse when they discovered a baby on their doorstep.’
‘But how come you have the care of Chrissie?’ Breda asked Eileen. ‘She does live with you, doesn’t she?’
‘She does,’ Eileen said. ‘And she is the light of my life. And that was because of John. Angela confessed to him what she had done, and as a priest he goes to the workhouse more than me, to attend to any Catholic inmates. So he sees the conditions they live under and the meagre food they are fed. One day he asked if they had ever traced the girl who had abandoned her child on the steps, and the superintendent told him they had not, and explained about the locket the baby had in her hand when she was found.’
‘So that’s why the locket is so important?’ Eileen said. ‘I often wondered. If John knew more, it would probably have been said to him in Confession, and so he could never tell me, of course. I think he felt somehow responsible for the child, and as far as he could, he kept an eye on her surreptitiously. So then, when he heard the workhouse was being closed to extend the hospital and provide convalescence facilities for soldiers, he suggested we take Chrissie into our care and give her a chance of a better life. We did, and we have never regretted it.’
‘I’ll take a bet Chrissie feels the same way,’ Maggie said with a smile. ‘The child has a constant smile on her face.’
‘Why did you leave the locket with Chrissie?’ Breda asked Angela.
‘The locket was given to Mary by my mother, who took me to the McCluskys when TB was running rife at the school. I was too young to be at school and my mother sought to protect me.’
‘She was right to do that, for they all died but you,’ Breda said. ‘Mary McClusky told me herself.’
Angela nodded. ‘Yes, none survived, not one sibling, nor my parents either,’ she said sadly. ‘I stayed living with the McCluskys, and Mary said the locket, which has locks of my mother’s hair in it, would always remind me that I had a mother other than her, and she loved me very much, but wasn’t able to look after me. I felt the same about Chrissie, so I put the locket in her hand, although I felt bad that I couldn’t do what Mary asked and give that locket to Connie. But did you know that Stan knew how I felt and had a replica made for Connie?’
‘I know about that,’ Eileen said, ‘because I had to sneak the original out of Chrissie’s room as she slept, so the jeweller could take a look at it. Does Connie know about it?’
‘Not yet,’ Angela said. ‘I’ll give it to her tomorrow and fulfil the promise I made to Mary. I want both girls to wear the matching lockets as they walk behind me down the aisle.’
‘If that’s what you want, then it will be done,’ Breda said. ‘If at all possible, every bride should have her heart’s desire on her wedding day, and your wants are so modest and so do-able.’
Angela wasn’t aware when she had begun to cry, and she struggled on to say, ‘I was bitterly ashamed of what I’d been forced to do to my baby daughter, and I felt guilty about her life in the workhouse – and those emotions never leave me. Sometimes shame almost consumes me.’
‘I am appalled by what you have suffered,’ Breda said brokenly. ‘But you have nothing to blame yourself for.’
‘Oh, I have,’ Angela said. ‘Chrissie is a lovely girl, and now that she knows it all, she has forgiven me for what I have put her through.’
‘There you are,’ Breda said. ‘Despite it all, look at the fine turn-out the child has made after all.’
‘Oh no,’ Angela said. ‘I can claim no credit for the way Chrissie is today. It’s all due to Father John from St Chad’s and Eileen, who took her from the workhouse just before her eleventh birthday. I owe them an immense debt of gratitude.’
‘Not at all,’ Eileen said. ‘Chrissie has been a joy and a pleasure to rear. She would like to be a teacher, like me, but there is not the money for that. But at least we can find her something better than service work, which are the only positions open to girls leaving the workhouse.’
‘You’re right there,’ Breda said and then turned to Angela and said, ‘Angela, you can say it’s none of my business, if you like …’
‘I wouldn’t dare,’ said Angela. ‘Not that you’d take any notice if I did, so what is it that’s puzzling you?’
Breda remembered telling Paddy to say nothing about anything on Angela’s wedding day, but her curiosity had got the better of her. ‘Well … it’s just … I mean, I know you’re marrying Stan tomorrow, but you were very close to him once before, years ago. We remember when you cleaned out the flat for Stan and Daniel to live in, and then suddenly Stan wasn’t there any more. Tell you the truth, Paddy thought he had treated you in a shabby way. He even said to me that he hoped Stan wasn’t going to do a similar thing again.’
‘That wasn’t Stan’s fault,’ Angela said. ‘It was mine. I rejected him because I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I had abandoned my new-born baby. I could hardly believe myself that I had done such a thing. I couldn’t bear to see the disgust for me in his eyes.’
‘I told her to tell him the whole story,’ Maggie said.
‘You should have listened to your friend,’ Breda said. ‘I have heard what happened to you and feel no disgust – just heartfelt sorrow and sadness – but certainly no disgust. Does Stan know all now?’
Angela nodded. ‘I told Chrissie and he overheard.’
‘And what was his reaction?’
‘He said, in his opinion, I was more sinned against than a sinner.’
‘I agree with that,’ Breda said. ‘Now put away your cups, for I am going to open the bottle of bubbly I have chilling in the fridge. We will drink to the health of the two couples getting married tomorrow, who will be beginning a new c
hapter in their lives.’
Paddy was nearly asleep when Breda reached their bedroom, but Breda made no apologies about disturbing him, for she had learnt things that night she had to share with him, or risk him making a fool of himself on the wedding day. However, sleep was driven from Paddy’s mind when Breda described the ordeal that Angela had suffered – the brutal attack and rape that resulted in a child being conceived. Angela had known she had to keep all knowledge of the attack and its consequence from Barry at all costs, but that meant she had to make a heartbreaking decision to abandon her child. Angela could barely live with the shame of it, nor share it with anyone. And it was Angela who had sent Stan packing, and not the other way around. In fact, the only cheering news was that McIntyre was dead and gone, and would never again be a threat to anyone.
TWENTY-ONE
The morning of the wedding, Angela gave Connie the locket Stan had made for her. She was speechless and then said hesitantly, ‘Is this Chrissie’s?’
‘Oh no,’ Angela said. ‘I could never take Chrissie’s away from her. She thinks so much of it.’
‘Yes, she does,’ Connie said. ‘And I know why you gave it to her, and you were right. I was ashamed that I was resentful that she should have it and not me.’
‘You never showed that.’
‘I shouldn’t have felt even the tiniest bit of envy,’ Connie said. ‘I was quite disgusted with myself, especially when I realised Chrissie knew how I felt.’
‘Did she say so?’
‘No,’ Connie said. ‘She offered me her locket.’
‘Did she?’ Angela said in surprise. ‘I never knew that.’
‘No, we decided not to tell you in case you were upset, and you thought maybe Chrissie didn’t like the locket.’
‘I’d never think that,’ Angela said. ‘But why did she offer it to you? Did she say why?’
‘Yes, she said it was mine by right,’ Connie said. ‘It was after you explained everything. She said you were given that locket on your wedding day, and I was supposed to be given the locket on mine. I couldn’t take it, of course. But what a selfless thing for Chrissie to do! Tell you, that taught me a lesson better than any words of censure would have done, and any frustration or jealousy towards Chrissie disappeared into thin air, and I haven’t had the slightest bit of it since. In fact, I love her more than I ever thought I would, and I love the fact that she is my sister.’
‘I’m glad,’ Angela said. ‘This is a special locket – your own locket, which is a replica of the one Chrissie has.’
Connie turned it over in her hand. She said, ‘It’s … it’s amazing!’
‘Thank Stan and his mate in the Jewellery Quarter,’ Angela said. ‘Open it!’
Connie opened it and saw the same miniature that Chrissie had in hers, but she was puzzled by the ringlets. ‘Mammy, are those ringlets yours?’
‘Of course.’
‘You cut your hair to put it in a locket?’
‘You’re as bad as Stan,’ Angela said. ‘He didn’t like the thought of me cutting off my hair either, but it will grow again, and it was important for you to have the locket complete.’
‘Oh Mammy, I do love you.’
‘And I you, my darling girl,’ Angela said. ‘And now we must away and get ready, or the Larkins will arrive when I am only half dressed.’
At last, everyone was ready, and the sun shone in a Wedgewood-blue sky as the wedding party walked to St Catherine’s Church that mid-June day. Those not going to Nuptial Mass stood at the threshold of their houses and cheered and waved them on their way.
Father John had also invited Mr Masters, formerly the superintendent of the workhouse, although when Eileen found out about it, she wasn’t best pleased. ‘Why did you invite him?’ she asked.
‘I wanted him to see Chrissie,’ Father John said. ‘To see what can be achieved with these children when they are better clothed, fed and educated.’
Eileen nodded. ‘All those things would help,’ she said. ‘Though love is the most important thing these children need. But how can he change things in any significant way now? Didn’t you tell me he once tried to get the allowance for food for the children increased, and they refused to raise it by one farthing?’
‘Yes, he told me that. He was appalled.’
Eileen nodded her head. ‘I’m sure he was. Any decent person would be, when they see the half-starved children in the workhouse. He was the superintendent back then, but despite his outrage, they ignored him. What chance would he have to effect any change at all, now that he’s just a normal man in the street?’
‘None, I suppose,’ Father John had to admit.
‘And,’ Eileen went on, ‘have you considered the effect on Chrissie? Oh, you can say he’s not at the workhouse now, but he was at the workhouse when she was, and dreadful things happened to her on his watch. I don’t know, and nor do you, whether Mr Masters was aware of them or not, but Chrissie might well hold him at least partly responsible. John,’ she said, putting a hand on his arm, ‘she has come so far. Don’t risk destroying all we have done – for seeing Masters might well remind her of those harsh, bleak days. And not today, of all days, when her beloved half-sister Connie is getting married, as well as her mother, whom Chrissie has come to adore!’
‘I am ashamed,’ Father John said. ‘I didn’t think. I must see him, explain.’
‘I think that would be wise,’ Eileen said. ‘Go quickly and be as discreet as you can. Chrissie hasn’t seen him yet.’
So, thankfully Chrissie never saw Masters, and Angela, arranging Connie’s gown in the porch, was unaware of all that was happening. Then the Wedding March began, the congregation stood, and Connie and Stan began to walk down the aisle to join Daniel and his best man as they left their pew and stood in front of the altar.
TWENTY-TWO
Outside the church, as well as the official wedding photographer, there were cameramen and journalists from the Evening Mail and the Despatch. Both papers had covered the story after the explosion, and someone had told them that two of the young people – one of them the young woman who had been in a coma for so long – had fallen in love. And not only that, but their parents were getting married too. So, they came along to get some pics and to have a word with the young couple.
‘Our readers will love the fact that you recovered from that horrific explosion and have just got married,’ a reporter explained to Connie with a beaming smile. ‘A proper love story. They love happy endings.’
‘If you want a real romance, you should talk to my mother,’ Connie said. ‘She’s also getting married today.’
‘I will talk to your mother,’ the journalist said, ‘never fear. And I will ask the editor to hold the front page. Newspapers are full of gloom and doom now, and that is understandable with unemployment so high, but a story like this – triumph over adversity sort of thing – cheers people up no end, and that will sell papers. Thanks to you both! Now I am away to see your mother.’
‘Hope we’ve done the right thing, telling him all that,’ Daniel said when the journalist had gone.
‘Too late to worry about that now,’ Connie said. ‘But don’t worry – Mammy will send him away with a flea in his ear if she doesn’t want to talk to him!’
Unaware of all this, Angela was thinking of the future she could see ahead of her with Stan. Running a shop held many happy memories for her, and she was delighted to be going back into it. Talking about their finances, Angela had discovered that Stan had bought the shop, helped by a cash injection from Daniel. She wanted to return Daniel’s money and for her and Stan to buy the shop as joint owners in both their names. Daniel used to do all the ordering, stock control, bookkeeping and accounts to help his father, but now Angela was confident she could take that on board too, if Daniel could run through it with her a couple of times. She intended telling no one at home about her plans yet. She wouldn’t even tell them about the existence of the jewellery till life was back on a more even keel, so she had told
the bank manager she was leaving the jewellery where it was for a little longer, for safe keeping.
Breda gave Angela the nod to join Paddy in the porch, who she knew would be waiting for her. As Angela joined him, Paddy was misty eyed as he told her she looked beautiful. And she knew she did, because Maggie’s dress-maker friend had done wonders with the dresses. Around the necks of both of Angela’s daughters were the lockets that sparkled in the lights in the church porch.
A man who was vaguely familiar approached the group assembled in the porch. For a moment or two Angela couldn’t place him, and then she remembered he had been one of the journalists looking for human-interest stories after the explosions. She remembered that for a journalist, he had been quite sensitive and seemed genuinely concerned about those still trapped after the roof caved in, but she had no idea what he was doing there today. She was about to ask, but the young altar boy arrived to ask if they were ready for the organist, who was just about to start the Wedding March.
She turned to the journalist and said, ‘I don’t mind photos after the Mass is over, but stories will have to wait for another day, for now I have a wedding to attend.’ And she said to the altar boy, ‘Tell him I’m ready.’
Angela took Paddy’s arm as the strains of the organ could be heard. She thought she would have to be careful what she told the journalist. Chrissie might say the time for secrets was over, but Angela didn’t know if that extended to all and sundry reading about her in the pages of a newspaper. She decided not to worry about it now, but to concentrate on her wedding day. And as they entered the church, she gave a gasp as she saw how full it was. It was packed so tightly that there were a fair few without a seat standing at the back.