Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Dearest Martha,
I know you will be sad to hear my news, but I felt I had to tell you.
I’ve been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, which explains all the trouble I’ve had lately.
It’s incurable and the doctor told me I only have a year or so before the end.
It’s a horrible blow for dear Len, who has been so kind and caring all through my illness.
I know it will be a terrible shock for you as well, as you will lose your only living relative.
I know you might feel that you have to rush to my side, but there is no need.
It’s too expensive and the trip will mean a strenuous journey, and if you were to try to come by plane, it would be too expensive.
We can speak on the telephone whenever we can book a call.
I would, of course, love to see you, but as it doesn’t seem possible, we have to simply cherish our memories.
I know you will keep an eye on the family who adopted my little boy, now that you have found out who they are and where they live.
All I know is that they named him Frank Doyle and had him baptised in their local Catholic church, just after they had signed all the papers and he became their son.
That’s a nice, strong name to grow up with.
I’m so happy he’s getting a good start in life with good parents who will care for him with love and understanding.
It would have been miserable for him to grow up as the illegitimate son of a reckless married man and a woman who couldn’t resist a handsome face and a lot of flattery.
He told me he loved me and that he’d leave his wife.
We would go to England and organise a divorce and then we’d get married over the border in Scotland.
He didn’t mean a word of all that, but I believed it because I wanted to.
There you go, my full confession after all these years.
I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me.
You went to our old teacher, Sister Assumpta, for help and then she did the rest. God bless you for that, darling Martha.
You have to continue our mother’s legacy and look after the bookshop and keep the reading group going.
It’s the glue that keeps the community together and the village alive, but you already know that.
In any case, I hope this will not be my last letter to you, but one of many before I leave for the next life. Do write often and let me know how the bookshop is doing and what everyone in the reading group is up to. A little gossip makes me smile, as you know.
Until we hear from each other again, I am your loving sister,
Madge
Ciara read those last words and suddenly burst into tears. ‘Oh, it breaks my heart to think of poor Martha, losing her sister so far away, on the other side of the world, dying all alone. And then Dad not knowing and finding out much later that he was adopted. It’s too much to bear.’
Maureen put her arms around her daughter, her tears mingling with Ciara’s. ‘It’s so terribly sad to think about it and reading those words from that brave woman. It breaks my heart to imagine what they both went through.’
‘Mine too,’ Ciara sobbed. She groped in her pocket for a tissue but found nothing to dry her tears.
Then she got up and tore another piece of kitchen paper off the roll on the sink, then sank down on the chair again, dabbed her eyes and blew her nose.
‘You know what, Ma?’ she said with determination in her voice.
‘I’m going to try to set up the bookshop exactly like Martha and her mother did.
And see if I can’t get a reading group going, even if there are only two people in it.
Then anyone who wants to buy the shop as a going concern might want to keep it running.
I can ask for extra leave and then get that started. Would you allow me to do just that?’
Maureen stroked Ciara’s hair. ‘Are you sure, pet? I understand how you feel, but it will be hard work, and it might not be very viable in the end.’
‘I don’t care,’ Ciara declared. ‘I can at least try.’
‘That’s all you can do,’ Maureen agreed. ‘And I will be here with you, every step of the way, doing whatever it takes. I’m relieved, at least, that you’re not saying you’re going to quit again…’
‘It’s a bit of a halfway house,’ Ciara said, both cheering up at the thought and secretly hoping her mother would end up wanting to stay in Cherrywood permanently. ‘I’d be keeping Martha’s legacy going and yet not risk everything.’
‘I’m glad you have begun to see sense,’ Maureen said, smiling tenderly. ‘And also that we’re going to honour Martha’s last wishes.’
Ciara kissed her mother on the cheek. ‘Thanks, Ma, for understanding.’
Maureen got up from the chair. ‘And now, if you feed that hound, I’ll start cooking the chicken.’
Ciara did what she was told and then helped Maureen with the dinner that they ate at the kitchen table, making plans for the bookshop and their move to Cherrywood while the sun dipped below the horizon, colouring the sky a riot of pink, red and orange, a real ‘shepherd’s delight’, as Maureen called it.
After dinner and a short walk with Brian, they spent the evening sitting on the sofa in the living room, talking about what needed to be done and how they were going to tackle the reopening of the bookshop and running it as a business at least temporarily, something Maureen knew more about than Ciara.
‘I’ll have to ask for more leave,’ Ciara said. ‘I just don’t know how much time they’ll give me.’
‘They might agree to a leave of absence if they don’t have to pay you a salary for the duration,’ Maureen suggested. ‘But that’s up to you.’
‘I’ll suggest it to them and see what happens,’ Ciara said, feeling dizzy at the thought of facing her boss and asking for a long period of leave. She knew she might be taking a huge risk. But she didn’t want to worry her mother further.
Maureen nodded. ‘Good idea,’ she agreed. ‘You need to think carefully. But remember, you don’t owe Martha anything.’
‘I know what you mean, Ma,’ Ciara said, suddenly feeling exhausted. She got up from the sofa, yawning. ‘Sorry, but I’m really tired after all this, so I’ll go to bed.’
Maureen nodded. ‘You should try to sleep. I’ll take Brian for a little walk up the lane and then he’ll settle nicely on his bed. It’s a lovely evening and the fresh air will be good for me. I’ll bring a flashlight so I won’t get lost.’
Ciara kissed her mother. ‘Thanks, Ma. Goodnight.’
‘Night, night, darling. Sleep tight,’ Maureen said, patting Ciara’s cheek. ‘Everything will look better and clearer in the morning.’
‘I certainly hope so,’ Ciara said, thinking about the letter she had read earlier.
Later, in bed, Ciara found it hard to go to sleep.
Her mind was too full of worry about the future and what she had found out.
She couldn’t stop thinking about her biological grandmother dying on the other side of the world, without her sister to hold her hand.
Martha all alone, trying to keep the bookshop going and keeping an eye on her little nephew growing up in Drogheda.
She finally felt drowsy as she thought about a bewildered young man trying to deal with the revelation that the parents he loved were not his biological mother and father.
But it wasn’t her sadness, she realised and she must not feel any obligation towards anyone but herself.
With that thought, sleep finally won and Ciara slept all night, waking up to yet another beautiful morning, looking forward to her date with Oisín and all the things she was going to ask him.
She had had a feeling all along that he knew a lot about her family.
All she had to do was to find out what it was without being too obvious.
That thought, combined with what she had decided to do about the bookshop, made her get out of bed with a new determination and great hope for her future that suddenly seemed bright and full of promise.