Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Dear Ciara,
I hope this letter finds you well and happy.
You don’t know me and I don’t really know you either.
Except I know OF you, of course. I have followed your father’s life from afar and I learned about your birth from a notice in the local newspaper.
But let me introduce myself. I am Martha Fitzgerald, your biological grandmother’s sister.
I’m sure you know that your father was adopted by a very kind and caring couple, Ada and Brendan Doyle, who lived in Drogheda, where you were born.
But maybe you don’t know the circumstances around your father’s birth.
My sister, Madge, was a lovely, kind girl who grew up in Cherrywood where our mother ran a bookshop.
We both worked in the shop when we had finished school, and Madge did all the accounts when she had completed a course in bookkeeping.
Madge was the prettiest girl in the village and caught the attention of one of the brothers of a prominent family who used to ride his horse down the paths around the village.
He was handsome and clever – and married.
Nevertheless, he and Madge met and fell in love and had an affair that lasted over a year.
I believe they were truly devoted to each other, and that they would have married if he had been free.
His marriage was a sham, and his wife was a cold, mean woman who treated him with contempt.
Ciara’s heart contracted as she sat on her bed, reading Martha’s letter.
So it was true, just as she had feared. It was a strong possibility that Jarlath O’Toole had been her biological grandfather.
But why had he waited until 1945 to leave?
She went back to the letter, trying to breathe slowly in order to remain calm.
Late one night, Madge woke me up and told me the worst had happened; she was pregnant.
We decided not to tell our mother, who had enough on her plate with our father having just passed away and the bookshop to run.
Madge said her lover had at first suggested she end the pregnancy, but we didn’t know how to go about it.
I thought it both dangerous and immoral, but I did understand how desperate Madge was.
Then I had the idea to go and visit Sister Assumpta, who had been so kind to us when we went to school.
She was now in a small convent near Wicklow town and I knew the nuns there were very caring and compassionate.
Madge didn’t want me to tell anyone, but I went anyway.
Sister Assumpta was horrified to learn of Madge’s misfortune and said after a long silence that Madge could stay at the convent until the birth and then they would arrange to have the baby adopted.
This seemed to be the best arrangement and saved Madge from having to go to one of those horrible mother and baby homes where unmarried mothers were treated very badly.
To cut a long story short, Madge had the baby (a boy for whom the nuns found the Doyles) then left for England, and then on to Australia when the war ended.
The man she loved stayed behind and tried to patch up his marriage, but it was impossible.
He had lost a lot of money gambling while trying to get enough money together to help Madge but was caught when he broke into a house in Wicklow.
I have lived in Cherrywood all my life and have watched the village slowly decline, all the small shops having to close, their owners moving away or dying.
I have written down my last wishes and signed all the papers so that you can inherit everything I own.
My beloved sister Madge is gone, and I know your father passed away.
I am old and sick and close to my hundredth birthday, so it seems fitting for me to pass on the baton to you, my great-niece, and hope that you will rise to the challenge and open up the bookshop again and run it like we used to.
We had a children’s reading group once a week, which introduced them to the classics.
I hope you will do the same and maybe even get adults to come.
I wanted to give everything to you so you could continue my work, which was very close to my heart.
I wish I could have known you, but I didn’t want to intrude on your life.
And now, as my life is slowly coming to an end, I will sit here and go through my own garden of remembrance.
Mine is like a park, with beautiful flowers and shrubs and then some thistles and nettles and other weeds.
Life has its ups and downs, but the most important thing is to remember to never give up, and that envy and self-pity are your worst enemies.
If you don’t want to open the shop again, the money I left should go to a charity that helps children.
Maybe you will decide to simply live in the flat upstairs and use it for a place to enjoy spring and summer, which are lovely in Cherrywood.
I had hoped that a young person such as yourself might add a little life and youth to my village. That’s why I made you my heir.
Good luck, dear Ciara. I hope your life will be long and happy and full of love.
All my best wishes,
Martha Fitzgerald
Unable to move, Ciara sat with the letter pressed to her chest for a moment. She heard her mother calling from the landing and then there was a knock on the door.
‘Ciara? Are you asleep?’ Maureen said through the closed door. ‘I have dinner on the table.’
‘Come in, Ma,’ Ciara said. ‘I have something to show you.’
Maureen entered, looking confused. ‘What’s wrong, pet? You look frightened.’
‘Not frightened, but stunned,’ Ciara said. She handed Maureen the letter. ‘Read this while I change. Can dinner wait for a while?’
‘Yes,’ Maureen mumbled, her eyes on the text. She didn’t utter another word until she had come to the end. Then she looked at Ciara, who had changed into jeans and a sweater. ‘Holy God in heaven, what a story.’
‘I know,’ Ciara said, trying to brush her hair with hands that shook. ‘I can’t believe it. Jarlath O’Toole must have been my grandfather.’
‘Which makes Oisín and Liz your second cousins,’ Maureen filled in.
Ciara nodded, sitting down on the bed again. ‘That’s the maddest part.’
‘Martha seems to have been such a kind woman,’ Maureen said. ‘But now we know why she didn’t like the O’Tooles.’
‘She did help Oisín all the same,’ Ciara pointed out. ‘So maybe she didn’t feel he should suffer for what his great-uncle did.’
‘How much does he know?’ Maureen asked. ‘All of it?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Ciara stood up and put the hairbrush away.
‘He kind of teased me with the story when we had dinner last night. But I didn’t pick up on it because the years didn’t match.
Madge left for England just after she had given birth to Dad.
Jarlath left three years later, so I didn’t think that the girl Oisín mentioned was Madge. ’
‘I see,’ Maureen said, looking thoughtful. ‘Maybe Oisín is just guessing, or he might not have any idea at all who the girl was. Would it be better not to tell him, or Liz?’
‘But…’ Ciara stopped. ‘I was going to say that it would be nice for them to know that we’re related. But we should perhaps leave it alone for now.’
Maureen patted Ciara’s knee. ‘Yes, I think so. We could tell them later, but right now we have so many other things to consider.’
‘Yes, we do,’ Ciara said. ‘We’ll keep all this to ourselves for now and tackle it a bit later, when we have moved here for good.’
‘For good?’ Maureen asked, looking shocked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I meant to tell you earlier. I quit my job. My boss didn’t want to give me any more leave, and she wasn’t very nice about it. So then I told her I’d quit.’
Maureen stared at Ciara. ‘You quit your job just like that? Oh, Ciara, that wasn’t very wise.’
‘I know. But what was I supposed to do?’ Ciara asked. ‘She wanted me back in the office next week. I know that you’re going to say that I lost my security net or something, but I actually think it was a good thing it happened. Now I can do what Martha wanted.’
‘What Martha wanted shouldn’t be your top priority,’ Maureen said, looking angry. ‘You should think of what you want and what is reasonable for you to do. This whole idea was mad from the start.’
‘I want to try all the same,’ Ciara mumbled, saddened by her mother’s attitude. ‘I thought you wanted me to do it.’
‘I wanted you to get it started and then sell it as a viable business,’ Maureen said, putting the letter on the bed.
‘But now you want to stay here in this remote village and forget all about what you built up in Dublin. Your career, your flat, your circle of friends. That’s not what I wanted for you.
’ Maureen sighed and shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t have come here with you and encouraged you to even try to start up the shop.
It’s all my fault you’re in this situation. ’
‘No, it’s not,’ Ciara protested. Then she was silent for a moment while she stared at her mother, thinking about a good response to the tirade.
Then, as if someone was whispering in her ear she remembered something.
‘Dad said to me once that everyone is on their own journey through life. Nobody else is responsible for what happens to you. It’s not your fault if I feel I want to make a life here.
But I feel somehow that Dad would be happy I’m doing it. ’
‘Oh,’ Maureen said, her eyes suddenly full of tears.
‘Well I…’ She nodded. ‘I see what you mean. And your father was right. We’re all on our own journey.
I’m on mine too, of course.’ She took Ciara’s hand.
‘My hopes and dreams for you were that you’d have a secure future, but here you are, casting off and drifting away to something risky.
But I suppose that’s what life is all about.
Following your own star to your own destiny. ’
Ciara put her arms around her mother. Then she leaned back on the bed, smiling. ‘I’m beginning to like this part of my journey.’
‘I need to let all this sink in,’ Maureen said. ‘It’s going a bit too fast for me.’
‘Let’s have dinner and talk more,’ Ciara said despite the knot in her stomach.
Was she really right to burn all her bridges like this?
She had just given up her career in the civil service, a move that had been easy to do but now she wondered if it had been foolish.
She would leave her flat and the few friends she had made in Dublin behind to begin a whole new chapter in her life.
Would she come to regret this sudden change of life and curse Martha Fitzgerald for having given her a somewhat poisoned chalice?