Daughter of Mine (27 page)

Lizzie stared at her. She’d never gone in the woman’s office without trembling, and with reason, for it usually resulted in at least a severe rebuke or a caning. For the life of her she couldn’t think of anything she’d done to warrant being sent for. ‘Me, Sister?’

‘Yes, you. Would I have said you if I meant someone else?’ Sister Carmel said. ‘Go along quickly. Don’t keep Sister Jude waiting.’

Lizzie’s heart was thumping and her hands suddenly so clammy she had to run them down the front of her skirt, as she followed the nun up the steps and down the long corridor, wondering what now was in store for her.

Sister Maria knocked at the door and on the curt command to, ‘Come in,’ she swung the door wide for Lizzie to go in, but didn’t attempt to enter herself. And so, tentatively, Lizzie approached the desk, which she could see from the door.

As she went into the room, she knew there was a person to the side of the nun that she’d caught sight
of out of the corner of her eye, and that it was a man. She knew she mustn’t look at him or acknowledge him in any way, unless given leave to do so, and so she kept her head down.

But the man spoke. ‘Lizzie?’

It was said almost hesitantly, for Johnnie couldn’t be sure that this stumbling person with the swollen belly, dressed in hideous clothes, was the sister he’d come to seek.

But at the one word he spoke, Lizzie swung her head around and her lacklustre eyes were suddenly alight with joy. Nothing, no nun on earth, could have stopped the cry of relief and pleasure, nor the way she bounded across the room and threw her arms around Johnnie’s neck, so that he was nearly overbalanced. ‘Johnnie. Oh, thank God. Thank God!’

‘This is highly irregular,’ Sister Jude said. ‘We don’t encourage visitors, but in view of the circumstances.’

What circumstances? Sudden fear gripped Lizzie. Surely some calamity had happened. ‘What is it?’ she said. ‘Is something the matter with the children? Mammy? Daddy?’

‘No, nothing like that,’ Johnnie assured her. ‘They’re all grand.’ But he was thinking, by Christ, what have these monsters done to my beautiful sister? ‘We need somewhere quiet to talk,’ he went on. ‘Sister Jude has been kind enough to let us stay in the office.’

Lizzie continued to stare at him. She wanted to touch him, convince herself he was real. She listened to his words: ordinary, everyday words from a person outside these prison walls. She didn’t know whether she’d pay for this later and didn’t care either. ‘All right,
Johnnie,’ she said. She’d have said all right to anything he suggested.

She was hardly aware of the nun, muttering, ‘I’ll leave you now, then,’ or of her leaving the room. Then Johnnie took hold of her hand and sat her on one of the chairs set before the desk, while he stayed on the one beside her.

‘Almighty Christ, Lizzie,’ he said. ‘When it’s all over, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But, for now, we’ve hit a few problems.’ For a brief moment he remembered the fight he had had to get so far and he sighed, for it had been well worth it.

‘What is it?’ Lizzie demanded of Johnnie. ‘Glad though I am to see you, I feel only a major event would bring you here, and yet you say everyone is fine at home.’

‘They are,’ Johnnie said. ‘I’ve come because of the letters.’

‘Letters?’

‘People can’t just disappear off the face of the earth,’ Johnnie said. ‘Not even for a few months, no matter what Mammy and Daddy may think. There are a number of people asking about you. I’m afraid we opened the letters. You’ll see the first one’s from your mother-in-law, and there’s one from your neighbour from three weeks ago. Since then, we’ve had another two from your neighbour, and you’ll see that inside the first one there are two letters from Niamh.’

‘Niamh wrote?’ Lizzie said.

‘Aye, and in secret,’ Johnnie said. ‘We knew nothing about it.’

Lizzie opened up her daughter’s letters. In the first one her child’s confusion and hurt could be almost lifted from the page.

I was upset that you weren’t there to see me make my First Holy Communion, when you’d come home spesahlly for it and you promised.

Granny told us you had to go home because our other Granny was ill and I felt sorry for you then, because it must be horrible looking after someone you don’t like very much…

The tears squeezed from Lizzie’s eyes, so that she was unable to read any more for a while. She imagined her daughter’s sadness and realised she’d put it there, whether it was inadvertently or not, and her heart ached.

In the next letter, she was more angry than hurt:

Why didn’t you answer my letter? I waited and waited. Granny said you’re busy, but no one can be that busy. Please write to me, Mammy. I miss you so much…

‘Oh dear God!’ Lizzie said, and put her head in her hands.

‘There’s more, sis,’ Johnnie said. ‘In the next one she wrote to Violet to find out what was up with you. See, Mammy and Daddy foresaw none of this. They can be grateful that the postman passed all post to Violet, knowing the house was empty.’

‘It wasn’t. I mean, Steve’s brother Neil is supposed to be living there.’

‘Well, if he had been, and had opened Niamh’s letters, it would have really set the cat amongst the pigeons,’ Johnnie replied.

But on opening Flo’s letter, Lizzie knew why Neil hadn’t been at the house, because, amongst the vitriolic abuse, she read that:

Neil has received his call-up papers. Another son to worry about not that you will have the slightest idea what that feels like.

‘Now that Steve’s brother has been called up there may not be a house for me to return to in the end anyway,’ Lizzie told Johnnie,

‘Why?’

‘They’ll not hold a house with no rent coming in,’ Lizzie said. ‘The point was, none of the women were going to tell the landlord the house was empty, and I never saw him anyway. As I was working, Violet and I always left our rent money with one of the neighbours.’

‘That’s all sorted,’ Johnnie said. ‘I didn’t know the arrangements you had made with Steve’s brother, but I knew rent had to be paid on a property, and so I wrote to that friend of yours, Violet. I knew she’d know everything because you always mentioned her so much in the letters you wrote home. She told me she has been leaving your rent and hers with someone called Minnie, and she is going to continue to do that, only now I am going to reimburse her.’

Lizzie was flabbergasted by the resourcefulness of her brother. ‘Johnnie, you are amazing!’

‘You have to have something to return to,’ Johnnie said simply, ‘and Violet played her part in this too, and now that’s sorted I think you had better read the rest of the letters.’

There were two letters from Steve, the first mildly annoyed that she hadn’t written to him for weeks and the second furiously angry.

You seem to have forgotten your duty as a wife, residing as you are in the bosom of your family in Ireland, while I am living daily with mud and blood, death and destruction, without as much as a wee note to say I’m even in your thoughts.

I think it’s now time for you to come home. You’ve dallied there quite long enough and your place is in Birmingham, looking after the house. With Neil called up, there’s no one to see to it. I expect your immediate
return.
It isn’t as if there’s any danger from bombs any more. Mom says it’s as safe as houses.

‘He was all for me to come here,’ Lizzie said. ‘And now he wants me home. Flo put him up to it.’

‘Maybe, but it’s a long time with no letters or contact of any kind.’

‘What could I do?’ Lizzie cried. ‘I wanted to send Niamh a card for her First Holy Communion and Sister Jude took pleasure in telling me the postmistress would think it funny to get a letter from Sligo.’

‘Thank God that in a city like Birmingham no one would care where a letter came from.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘Look, Lizzie, we’ve had weeks to think of a plan,’ Johnnie said. ‘Or at least I have, because for the first fortnight or so, the time the first letters arrived, Mammy and Daddy refused to see there was a problem at all,
never mind think up a solution. They’re hell-bent on keeping your pregnancy a secret, and couldn’t see that if something wasn’t done it was going to be blown wide apart.’

‘Johnnie, d’you believe the account of what happened to me?’

‘With all my heart and soul.’

‘Why? I know Mammy and Daddy doubt me, and Father Brady. And as for them here…’

‘You are my big sister, Lizzie, and I’ve never known you tell a lie for one thing,’ Johnnie said simply. ‘Tressa believes you too. She collared me one day and asked me point blank where you were and I told her. She’d written to the house and got no reply and was worried stiff. She was surprised you didn’t tell her everything when you arrived, but I told her you thought Mammy ought to be the first to know and that after you did that you were lifted from the house faster than the speed of light. Anyway, she knows now, so maybe you can write a wee note to her too.

‘As for the nuns, it wouldn’t suit their purpose to believe you, and when all is said and done they hardly know you. They’re all colluding anyway. I had to almost threaten the priest before he’d give me the address of this place. Mind you, I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t want to be running coach tours out to this bloody prison, would you?’

‘Oh Johnnie,’ Lizzie said. ‘I can’t remember when I last smiled.’

‘Well, all that will change, I promise,’ Johnnie said. ‘But for now I have with me paper, stamps and envelopes. I want you to write to Niamh and wee Tom.
Tell them you’ve been ill, caught whatever Flo was supposed to have.’

‘But Johnnie.’

‘“But Johnnie” nothing. I haven’t been idle since you’ve been here. When I wrote to Violet I told how things were and she’s agreed to post the letters to the children from there. You can write to her too, and tell her everything so far. She seems a good friend.’

‘The best,’ Lizzie said. ‘Oh, Johnnie, you’re so good to me. It’s grand to have you here, like Christmas, but have you a magic formula for Steve and his mother?’

‘The only magic formula for that Flo is a tight gag around her mouth and her hands tied behind her back so that she can’t write or spew abuse at anyone,’ Johnnie said. ‘But since we can’t do that, this is what I would suggest. Stick with the illness. Say you were sick and then say that Mammy finds it hard coping with the two weans now that school has broken up for the summer and you feel you should stay and give her a hand and spend some time with the children too, especially as Tom is starting school in Ballintra in September. Say you’ll be home when you’ve settled him in. I’ll post those from home.’

‘D’you think it will work?’

‘It’s better than doing nothing,’ Johnnie said. ‘As for Steve, unless he has leave, and let’s pray to God he doesn’t, he can’t check for himself and I don’t think his mother will. So all they can do is write and make demands and castigate you, and judging by the general tone of your mother-in-law’s letters, you’re well used to that.’

‘Oh, I am,’ Lizzie said. ‘You’re right of course. It is
far better than saying nothing. And Johnnie, will you come again?’

‘Aye,’ Johnnie said. ‘This will be ongoing now, for I’ll have to bring you the replies. I think it would be better if I come every fortnight until you’ve had the baby and can come out of this place.’

‘Oh, Johnnie, you don’t know what this means to me.’

‘Don’t cry. Please, Lizzie, don’t.’

‘I’m crying because I’m happy,’ Lizzie said. ‘Happy and relieved.’

As Johnnie put an arm around his sister he dislodged the cap, and when he saw the front of her hair was shorn he pulled out the kirby grips and removed the rest of it gently. Then he just stared at the brown stubble, appalled.

‘Why?’ he said simply.

Lizzie tossed her head and replaced the hat, knowing she’d be in trouble if she was spotted without it, ‘There’s no place for vanity here,’ she said. ‘That’s what they say.’

‘God! It’s inhuman!’

Lizzie was tempted then to tell him everything, but she resisted. What could he do but fret, and if he spoke out about it and made waves while she was still here, things might be worse for her. If, for example, she was spirited away into some asylum, maybe even the influence of a brother wouldn’t be enough to effect her release, and that didn’t bear thinking about. So she shrugged as nonchalantly as she could and said, ‘You get used to it after a while, and every one of us is the same.’

‘Oh God, Lizzie,’ Johnnie said. ‘I’m sure Daddy and Mammy didn’t know it would be like this.’

But even as Johnnie spoke the words, he doubted it would have made any difference to the outcome if they had known. The secrecy, to protect their selfrespect and standing in the community, seemed to be all they cared about. In their heart of hearts, Johnnie knew they blamed Lizzie, even if they believed her; and he thought his mammy did believe her, but she still blamed her, as if she could help a violent attack and rape. ‘Don’t worry,’ he assured Lizzie, ‘I’ll come for you when it’s over.’

‘I can’t go home. Daddy and Mammy won’t let me,’ Lizzie said.

Johnnie hadn’t known this, but Lizzie went on, ‘I don’t mind. Well, I’d like to see the children, especially as I’ll want nothing to do with this child. I’ll go back to Birmingham to the house and Steve, if he survives this war.’

‘Write your letters now.’ Johnnie said, giving her arm a squeeze. ‘I’ll go outside and walk around a wee while. This place is making me feel claustrophobic.’

Lizzie watched him go, this youngest brother, the one she’d helped rear, the one she’d played with and protected as well as she was able, and her heart was full of love for him; love and gratitude.

When Lizzie returned to the laundry she was the subject of speculation—silent of course, but many had glimpsed Johnnie walking the grounds as they worked in the laundry, the doors open because of the heat, or
took washing in and hung out more. Celia mouthed to Lizzie as they worked at the sink. ‘Who?’

Lizzie glanced across at Sister Carmel, but she was bent over some intricate embroidery and she mouthed back, ‘My brother.’

She saw the look of envy flood over Celia’s face and could well understand it, for Celia had no brother taking any sort of interest in her.

And Johnnie’s influence went further. That night, being Saturday, was bath time, and as usual as they filed before the nuns naked to have their hair cropped. Sister Maria said almost mockingly, ‘Your brother has asked for your hair not to be cut any more. He is to take charge of you afterwards and says it will be difficult for you to take up the threads of life again marked in such a way.’

Her lip curled, and Lizzie knew that she didn’t think any of these girls should ever be forgiven for whatever reason they were in this place; that they should never have a chance to start to live in the world again as if they were part of the human race. But she was to have that chance, and just the fact that her hair was no longer to be clipped close to her scalp gave her an absurd lift. She was still three months from the birth: three months when she would see Johnnie regularly and her hair would grow again and would curl and shine like a beacon towards her freedom.

Yet she knew in all other ways she had to continue to toe the line. Johnnie could do little to alter the day-to-day regime, and if she were to complain at all and he was to tell Sister Jude, it might be worse for her afterwards. Anyway, she didn’t want to spoil his visits
by carping and moaning about things he could do nothing about. She would ask about news from the farmhouse and about the children and her parents and Tressa.

The second time he came, as he spoke of these things, tears ran down Lizzie’s face. Not for herself, for she knew in that moment she was possibly the most privileged woman in that whole convent, but she cried for the other girls, trapped and hopeless, those with no future at all. Johnnie seemed to understand her need to cry and he didn’t urge her to stop, but clasped her tight in his arms until she was calmer.

The letters became easier to write, though Flo still grumbled. Steve, once it was explained to nim, could see that Lizzie would miss the children and quite understood that the two at home all day could be a handful for Lizzie’s mother. If the situations had been reversed, much as he loved her, he couldn’t see his mother taking full control of two boisterous children. It was odd to think of wee Tom nearly old enough to go to school. It would all be strange to him, Steve guessed, and he’d want one of his own there beside him. He wrote and told Lizzie to stay where she was for the time being.

His understanding made Lizzie feel worse in a way. It wasn’t her fault, she knew, but she had betrayed Steve. He was her husband and yet she carried another man’s seed in her womb. ‘I’ll make it up to him when this is all over,’ she promised herself. ‘I’ll be a model wife. I’ll not complain if he drinks too much or even if he stays out all night a time or two. It will probably take me a lifetime to make it up to him.’

The children’s letters she found easier to write. She told them about life in Birmingham, relying on memory and the snippets Violet spoke about, and tried to make them funny. Niamh’s replies often reduced her to tears, and also the kisses Tom made on the bottom of the letters. She longed to see them and hold them and was heart-sore that it would be some time before she could do that.