Chapter 18 #2
‘He would,’ Maureen said and got up. ‘Let’s not fall out about this. We should enjoy the final week of the holiday and doing up the shop. You’ll see that I’m right when you’ve had time to think about it.’
‘Maybe,’ Ciara mumbled, knowing she had lost the argument.
But the longer we stay, the more Ma will fall in love with this lovely little village, she thought.
I’d better pretend to agree with her and try my best to show her how great it would be to stay here permanently.
‘You’re right, Ma,’ she said in a happier tone of voice.
‘We should make the best of the time we have left here. Go for walks and see what kind of plants we could put into the garden.’ That should make her more enthusiastic, Ciara thought.
Ma can never resist a chance to do some gardening.
‘Good idea. But now I’ll put the shopping away,’ Maureen said.
‘We can draw up plans for what we need to do with our last week later.’ She picked up a tin of tomatoes and opened the door to the cupboard over the sink.
‘I’ll put the dry goods in here. It’s the only cupboard I cleaned out, so we’ll have to get stuck into the rest of the kitchen tomorrow.
The cupboards need to be cleaned and the draining board scrubbed.
Whoever cleaned the place for Ronan must have forgotten the kitchen. ’
‘Or they didn’t have your high standards,’ Ciara joked. ‘Everything else is great, though, don’t you think?’
Maureen nodded. ‘Yes, not bad at all. But if we’re going to make this flat enticing for a buyer, we have to do up this kitchen.’ She tugged at the handle of a drawer. ‘I wanted to put the cutlery in one of these drawers. But this one seems stuck.’
‘Here, let me try.’ Ciara walked over and gave the handle a pull.
It came only halfway and then refused to budge.
‘There’s something stuck inside,’ she said and felt inside with her fingers, which met a bundle of papers that she pulled out.
‘There. It’s fine now.’ Ciara pulled out the drawer.
‘These pieces of paper were stuck inside and blocked it.’
Maureen took the little bundle and looked at it. ‘It’s a bunch of old letters. But the ink has been damaged by damp so I can’t see who they belong to.’
Ciara held out her hand. ‘Let me have a look.’ She took the bundle that Maureen handed her and peered at the first envelope. ‘It’s written on very thin paper, nearly see-through.’
‘Airmail,’ Maureen said. ‘We used it for letters that had to go abroad to minimise weight. Haven’t seen airmail letters since the nineteen eighties.’
Ciara pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table.
Then she examined the letters one by one.
‘These letters were sent from Australia in nineteen fifty-four, judging by the stamp and the postmark. They’re addressed to Martha.
’ Ciara fished out a thin page from the first envelope.
‘It’s hard to make out what’s written. The ink has become pale and nearly invisible.
But I can see that this one is from Madge.
So she must have gone to Australia after the war. ’
‘Can you see any of the text?’ Maureen asked, sitting down beside Ciara.
‘Just the last few words,’ Ciara said. ‘“Love from your Aussie sister down under. Write soon, I so love to hear from you.” And then it says, “Madge”.’ She handed the letter to Maureen and picked up the next one.
‘Ah, this one is a lot clearer. “Darling Madge, I am now a married woman, the wife of a retired army captain who is the nicest man I have ever met. You would love him and I do hope that you will come and visit us on the farm in the Blue Mountains. Len is looking forward to your visit, which will happen as soon as we can send you the money for the trip. You will find me transformed into a farmer’s wife with an Australian accent, which will make you laugh. Oh, Martha, you have no idea how happy I am, even though I’m very homesick for Ireland, and sad about the baby I was forced to give away.
You have told me the couple who adopted my darling little boy are kind and loving and that he has the best home any child could hope for.
That makes me happy, even though I know I will never see him again. ”’
‘That’s so sad,’ Maureen said. ‘Imagine having to give away your own child. How awful that must have been for the poor girl.’
‘For many such young women at the time, I can imagine,’ Ciara said and picked up the next letter.
‘This one is again very difficult to make out. All I can see is, “Dear Martha, Sorry to hear that” – and then the words are too faint to see. The ink must have deteriorated through the years.’ She turned the page.
‘“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine, even though I have to accept that Len and I will not have any children of our own.
”’ Ciara looked at Maureen. ‘Must have meant she had some kind of surgery or illness that affected her ability to have children.’
‘Something like that,’ Maureen agreed. ‘Which makes her having to give up her baby even sadder.’
‘I know.’ Ciara had come to the last letter in the bundle. ‘This one is not as damaged,’ she said and fished out the letter from the envelope. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘The text is very clear. Beautiful handwriting too.’
‘What does it say?’ Maureen asked.
‘Just a minute,’ Ciara said as she began to read the first page. What it said made her heart race. ‘Oh my God,’ she mumbled. ‘This explains a lot.’ She read the letter through to the end and then handed it to Maureen. ‘Read it for yourself.’