Forgotten Child (28 page)

Edward was in the new house, waiting in despair for Jenny. Where on earth was she? He’d expected her to turn up ages ago, but instead it was now the middle of May and there was no sign of her. Her search would have proved fruitless and surely there was nothing to keep her in Ireland now. Had she somehow lost his new address, was that it?

He glanced at the clock. Robin should be here soon and it had been a long time since he’d seen his son as well. He knew the boy was annoyed that he’d refused to take Delia back, and that it was a long drive to Essex from Birmingham, but with a week off from university, he’d at last persuaded his son to make the journey.

‘Hello, son,’ he said, when at last Robin arrived. ‘You made it then.’

‘I was a bit worried about the car. I thought at one time she was going to give up on me.’

‘Car! It’s more like a pram, but you’re the one who wanted it.’

‘It’s a Citroën 2CV, not a pram, and she’s usually as good as gold.’

‘Until now.’

‘She still got me here,’ Robin said as he looked around the living room. ‘This isn’t bad.’

‘I like it, but sit down and I expect you could do with a drink. Beer?

‘Yes, great.’

Edward poured the drinks, then asked, ‘Have you by any chance heard from Jenny?’

‘No, not a word, haven’t you?’

He shook his head. ‘Not since the last time I spoke to her.’

‘Has she got your new telephone number?’

‘No, but I was expecting her back by now, or failing that she could have dropped me a line. I’m beginning to think she may have lost the address.’

‘Could be, but if she wants to find it, I’d have thought she’d ring me. Dad, you don’t think she’s somehow found out, do you?’

‘No, it’s impossible.’

‘I hope you’re right, but Mummy said something about new laws coming into force next year.’

Edward sat down opposite his son. ‘It still wouldn’t do Jenny any good. For her sake, and you know why, I had the forethought to make sure she doesn’t know her mother’s real name.’

Robin looked shocked. ‘I’m not sure, Dad; the more I think about it, the more I feel Jenny has a right to know.’

‘No, son, she’s been through enough. Jenny needs to get on with her life now, to make a fresh start and we should help her. If we don’t she could spend years on a search that could lead anywhere, and when it ends in failure it could destroy her. It’s better this way, you must see that.’

Robin thought about it for a while, but then to Edward’s relief he nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. As I once said, what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.’

‘That’s right,’ Edward said, hoping that soon there’d be a knock on the door, and he’d find his daughter on his doorstep. Then, at last, he could relax.

Jenny was feeling despondent. She had searched place after place, winding across the south on tiny roads as she went from village to village, her search ever widening. She was so tired of travelling, of sleeping in different beds, some comfortable, some not, and was nearly ready to give up. She was lonely too, meeting people just briefly before moving on, tired of hellos and goodbyes.

She lay in bed that night after another fruitless journey, in yet another stopover, miles from Limerick,
and surely too distant from the city to be the right place. If only her father had given her at least a village name–without one her search was proving impossible. She thought about his new house in Essex. He must have moved in by now, and was probably upset that he hadn’t heard from her. Maybe it was time to drop him a line, tell him she was coming back. She’d try one last place, one a woman had told her about that day, a convent that took in lost souls. It sounded unlikely, but Jenny felt she had to give it a try. She closed her eyes, fighting despair. She felt like that–a lost soul–but at last she slept.

The dream came, the same beautiful vision, and Jenny awoke very early on Thursday morning with it still in her mind. Why? Why did that place haunt her dreams? She flung back the blankets and went to have a wash before she got dressed, packed her overnight bag and headed downstairs. She’d have breakfast, pay yet another bill, and then head for the convent.

‘It’s been lovely to meet you,’ the owner said. ‘Have a good journey.’

‘Thank you,’ Jenny replied, but found that she had to gulp back her emotions. The woman reminded her of Nuala and she was tempted to return to Limerick, to stay with them for a few days before going back to England. No, she had to try
this one last place and, waving goodbye, she left to get into her car.

It was two hours later and yet again Jenny was disappointed, her journey a wasted one. She headed for the nearest village, feeling disheartened as she found somewhere to have a drink. It was a lovely day, the sky blue, sun shining, and the countryside beautiful; yet it failed to cheer her.

‘Are you here on holiday?’ the woman behind the counter asked as she served her.

‘Yes, touring,’ Jenny replied, in no mood to give the real explanation. She’d seen it so many times, the look of disapproval on some faces when she asked about a home for fallen women, though there were others who had tried to be helpful.

‘You’re on the border of County Limerick. Are you going on to Cork?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘You should. It’s popular with tourists, and close by is Blarney where you can kiss the famous stone.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Jenny replied as she took her cup and went to sit down. This wasn’t a holiday, but the woman’s words triggered thoughts of Nuala. The place she’d been born in sounded perfect for a holiday, somewhere to soothe your soul she’d said and, unhappiness swamping her, Jenny felt she needed somewhere like that.

It was time to give up–she just couldn’t go on,
couldn’t face this aimless search any longer. For a moment Jenny was temped to go to Kilkee, yet it wasn’t a place that could soothe her soul, it was a person. And that person was Nuala.

Her mind made up, Jenny went to find a telephone. Before going back to England on Monday, she’d double back and stay with Nuala and Finn for a few days.

Soon, feeling a little better now that the decision had been made, Jenny was on her way to Limerick.

Back in Limerick, it was very late, and Nuala was yawning, but she was determined to stay up. Jenny had rung to say she was coming here for a few days and she was looking forward to seeing her.

‘Go to bed, Finn,’ she said, seeing that her husband was yawning too.

‘I’ll stay up a while longer.’

‘I hope this means that Jenny found her mother’s grave.’

‘Didn’t she say?’

‘No, just that she was coming back here.’

‘You didn’t tell her you’re going to be away?’

‘I thought it could wait. Are you sure you can manage?’

‘Nuala, how many times are you going to ask me that? Kaitlin is going to leave Aiden with Donal’s
mother, then there’s Bridget, and her cousin has offered to help out too. I’ll be fine.’

‘I just need to see for myself that my dada’s all right,’ Nuala said. Then hearing a knock on the door, she hurried to answer it.

‘Hello, I’m here, but I’m sorry it’s so late.’

‘Jenny, come on in, your room’s ready.’

As Jenny picked up her cases and stepped into the light, Nuala saw that she looked exhausted with dark shadows beneath her eyes. ‘You look awful.’

‘I’m all right, just a bit tired. It was a long way and I still don’t like driving in the dark.’

‘You should have stopped somewhere for the night.’

‘I just wanted to get here, to see you and Finn again.’

‘And it’s pleased we are to see you,’ Nuala said, giving the girl a hug, ‘but for now I think a hot drink and then bed for all of us.’

‘It’s funny, but it feels like I’ve come home.’

‘Hello, Jenny,’ Finn said. ‘I’ll take your cases up to your room.’

‘And I’ll make you a drink,’ Nuala said.

‘Don’t do that. I’ve kept you up long enough.’

‘It won’t take a few minutes, though I expect Finn will be off to bed.’

‘Yes, I am. Goodnight, Jenny,’ he said, picking up the cases. ‘I’ll drop these off on the way.’

Nuala beckoned Jenny to the kitchen. The poor girl looked dreadful, so pale, so tired, and talking could wait until the morning.

For the first time in ages Jenny slept like a log and didn’t open her eyes until gone nine the next morning. She was glad to have the same room, the same familiar bed. It was as she’d told Nuala last night, it felt like she’d come home.

Lazily she got up and, when dressed, went downstairs to poke her head into the kitchen. ‘Good morning.’

‘Jenny, you’re up at last. Sit yourself down and pour yourself a cup of tea.’

‘Are you sure? You don’t usually allow guests in the kitchen.’

‘You’re more than a guest, darlin’, you’re like part of the family, and as you’re the last one up I’ll have a cup of tea with you.’

Jenny felt she was right–that it wasn’t a place she had needed, it was a person–and seeing Nuala’s smiling face had lifted her spirits already. She was
glad now that she’d decided to take such a long, circuitous route back to England.

Nuala sat down, poured the drinks, and then said softly, ‘Now tell me. How did you get on?’

‘I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find it.’

‘’Tis a shame, but your mammy will be looking down on you and she’ll know you did your best.’

‘Do you really believe that?’

‘Yes, and you should too. You’re a lovely girl, one your mother would be proud of.’

Tears came then, tears she’d held in check for so long. She’d failed, but perhaps Nuala was right, perhaps her mother would understand.

‘That’s it, you have a good cry,’ Nuala said as she reached across the table to grasp Jenny’s hand.

‘That’s the last of them,’ Bridget said as she walked in with a pile of plates, only to halt in her tracks when she saw Jenny sitting at the table, sobbing. ‘Oh…oh dear, what’s wrong?’

‘She’s just a bit upset, that’s all,’ Nuala said. ‘Just leave the plates and I’ll see to them. You can get on with the rooms.’

Bridget put them by the sink and then placed a light hand on Jenny’s shoulder. ‘Can I do anything to help?’

‘Bridget…’ Nuala warned.

‘No, it’s all right,’ Jenny said, touched by the girl’s concern as she fought her tears. ‘Thank you, but I’m fine now.’

Bridget hesitated, but at another warning look from Nuala she went to get on with her work. Jenny managed a watery smile. ‘I only saw Bridget briefly before I left, but she seems nice.’

‘She is, but needs a bit of pushing to get on with her work. Now then, what would you like for breakfast?’

Unsure that she could eat anything, and knowing it was past the time that Nuala served food, she shook her head. ‘Nothing, thanks.’

‘You’ll at least have a bit of toast,’ Nuala insisted as she stood up.

‘I’ve put you behind, and I’ll only eat a bit of toast if you let me help with the washing-up.’

‘There’s no need for that.’

Jenny ignored her and now went to the sink, soon immersing the plates in hot, soapy water. Nuala looked at her and shook her head, but she was smiling as Finn walked in.

‘Jenny, what’s this? You’re a guest.’

‘I’m just giving Nuala a hand.’

‘The dishes can wait,’ Nuala said firmly. ‘Now dry your hands, sit down, and eat your toast.’

‘It’s best to do as she says,’ Finn advised. ‘She’s not one to argue with.’

‘Haven’t you got light bulbs to change?’

‘Yes, Nuala, I’m on me way.’

Jenny ate her toast, finding that she had an
appetite after all, and then took another slice while Nuala stood over her like a sentinel.

‘Good girl,’ she finally said, sitting down now, ‘and before you try to wash up again, I have something to tell you. My sister rang to tell me that my dada isn’t too well. He’s in his late eighties now, and though Maeve said she doesn’t think it’s anything to worry about, I feel I have to see that for myself. I’m going to Kilkee in the morning.’

‘Oh, Nuala, I’m sorry. I hope he’s all right.’

‘So do I, but ’tis a shame you’re only here for a few days. I’ll be away for a week and won’t be back before you leave.’

In the circumstances, Jenny knew it couldn’t be helped, but felt a surge of disappointment. ‘Never mind, at least I’ve had a chance to see you today and as I don’t want to be chased out of the kitchen yet, I’m going to help you with that washing-up.’

And she did, the two of them chatting until at last it was finished. Jenny was about to go to her room to unpack a few things when Finn appeared, frowning.

‘Nuala, I’ve got a bit of bad news.’

She paled. ‘Finn, not my father!’

‘No, it’s the car.’

‘You eejit!’ Nuala exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t you say that to start with? I…I thought…’

‘Sorry, I’ll start again. The garage just rang. They
haven’t got the part yet and the car won’t be ready in the morning.’

‘I’ll just have to go by bus then,’ Nuala said.

‘There isn’t one that goes all the way and you’d have to change buses perhaps two or three times. Can’t you leave it until the car’s fixed?’

‘And how long will that take?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Not sure! What good is that!’

‘It won’t hurt to wait.’

‘No, Finn, I have to go. I…I have this feeling on me.’

Without hesitation, Jenny said, ‘I’ll take you, Nuala.’

‘You will? Oh, Jenny, are you sure? It’s nearly a two-hour drive.’

‘Is that all?’ Jenny said nonchalantly to prevent any further protest. ‘I could be there and back by lunchtime.’

Nuala hugged her then, her voice a croak. ‘I don’t know how you do it, Jenny, but you seem to turn up just when I need you. It’s like you were sent here to help me again.’

‘Now you’re off with the fairies again,’ Finn said.

‘Or the leprechauns,’ Jenny said, grinning.

‘Oh, you two, you’re as bad as each other,’ Nuala said, smiling, ‘but you’ve got to admit it’s strange.’

Yes, Jenny thought, she had come back just when Nuala needed her again, and though it was
just a coincidence, she was glad that she was able to help.

That night, in bed, Nuala couldn’t sleep. Since Jenny had arrived she’d had this strange feeling within her, an urgent need to get to Kilkee, but it had eased from the moment Jenny offered to drive her there. She’d had a similar sort of feeling the last time Jenny had stayed with them, when the girl had been looking at her map and for some reason she’d felt compelled to point out Kilkee.

Nuala plumped up her pillow, worried again. Had she been forewarned then that her father was going to be ill, that Maeve shouldn’t be dismissing this latest bout of bronchitis so flippantly?

‘Nuala, stop fidgeting and let’s get some sleep.’

‘I can’t help it. I’m worried about my dada.’

‘Maeve said he was no worse when you rang her earlier.’

‘She didn’t say he was any better.’

‘You’ll see for yourself tomorrow.’

‘It’s a blessing Jenny turned up when she did. It’s almost as if she’s meant to take me to Kilkee.’

‘Now you sound like you’re off with the fairies again.’

‘You always say that when I get funny feelings, but they’re usually right.’

‘Not this time. Your dada will be fine. Now
go to sleep,’ Finn said, this time putting an arm around her.

Nuala found it comforting; her last thought before drifting off that there was more to her funny feelings this time, something she couldn’t put her finger on.