The Letter (31 page)

Chapter 34

William and Tina sat in The Malt Shovels, the third pub they had visited within the two mile radius in the inner circle. Grace’s brother had dutifully marked the pubs on the map, four in the inner circle and three in the outer circle. That meant there were seven pubs within a five mile radius of the convent.

William picked up his half pint of Guinness and took a sip. ‘Shall we order some food, I’m starving?’

Tina laughed. ‘Do you ever think about anything else? I’ve never known anybody eat so much. I think you must have a tapeworm!’

‘All this cycling from pub to pub has given me an appetite.’ He pointed at the blackboard. ‘Look, they have a nice Steak and Ale Pie, so they do.’

Tina nudged him playfully in the ribs. ‘You’re beginning to sound Irish.’

He took another sip of his drink. ‘I am Irish, aren’t I? Born, if not bred.’ He raised his glass to the barman, who nodded and began to fill another for him.

‘Are you sure you want another? We have one more pub after this to investigate tonight and you don’t want to be caught drunk in charge of a bicycle.’

‘I suppose you’re right. Look we’ll order some food and then start asking around. It looks a bit more promising than the last two places.’

Tina agreed. ‘Alright then, I’ll just have the cheese salad. I want to save room for
that
.’

She pointed at the menu on the table and William leaned over to get a closer look.

‘Bread and Butter Pudding. What on earth is that?’ He wrinkled his nose in apparent disgust.

‘You wait and see. I’ll ask for two spoons. I guarantee you’ll want some!’

Tina gazed wistfully into the distance. ‘It was my mother’s speciality. She made it to perfection with thick slices of white bread, heavily spread with creamy butter. The fruit was plump and juicy and the custard was set just right. The top was always slightly crispy and caramelised and if there was any left it was even better cold the next day.’

William smiled. ‘You’ve never spoken about your family before. Tell me about them.’

Tina picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of her sweater, avoiding eye contact. ‘Both my parents are dead.’

William was shocked. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry Tina. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘You weren’t to know. My father died when I was sixteen and my mother died seven years after that. She never got over his death, you know. It sounds clichéd, but they really were soul mates. Anyway, I’m an only child and found myself orphaned at the age of twenty-three.’ She managed a weak smile. ‘I had a good job though, in an office, and was well-respected there. I worked in the charity shop at weekends so I was never short of company. That’s where I met Graham, he has the bookmaker’s next door. I work in the charity shop full-time now.’

‘What happened to your office job?’

Tina hesitated. ‘It’s a long story. I left there when I got pregnant.’

William’s eyes widened. ‘You have a baby?’

‘No. She was stillborn.’

William instinctively took up Tina’s hand and pressed his to his cheek. ‘I don’t know what to say, you poor thing. What about the father? Were you married?’

Tina was rapidly losing her appetite. ‘Yes, I was, but he’s dead too.’

William was aghast. ‘How much pain is one person supposed to endure?’

Tina stared ahead levelly. ‘I don’t shed any tears over
him.’
She picked up the menu. ‘Now, shall we order?’

The evening sun was beginning to set as William and Tina left the pub. The smell of the pungent hawthorn hedgerows hung in the air and the May evening now had the faintest hint of a chill.

‘Well, that was another waste of time,’ declared William, as he tucked his trousers into his socks. He looked across at Tina as she fiddled with the basket on the front of the bike she had borrowed from Grace. She had been quiet all through dinner and William cursed himself for opening up old wounds.

‘Are you up to another one?’

Tina looked up. ‘Another one?’

‘The last pub in the inner circle. We’ll only have the three in the outer circle to do then if we get no joy in the next one.’

‘If you’re sure your bike is up to it!’

Tina giggled as she regarded the antiquated, rusty bike William had borrowed from Grace’s next-door neighbour.

William grimaced. ‘I know. It’s the one Noah refused on the grounds it was too old-fashioned.’

Tina laughed out loud. ‘You are funny, William.’

He adopted a serious tone. ‘You look lovely when you laugh. Look, I’m sorry about in there.’ He nodded towards the pub. ‘I hope you don’t think I was prying.’

‘It was perfectly reasonable of you to ask about my family. You didn’t know it was going to take on Shakespearean proportions. Come on, let’s press on. Where to next?’

The final pub of the evening was no more than a tiny, thatched cottage. The windows were small so inside it was dark and gloomy, with scuffed wooden floorboards that even the sawdust could not disguise. There were half a dozen tables, around which were seated groups of old men, some playing cards or dominoes, some just starring into their pints. All of them looked up as William and Tina walked in. William nodded as he took Tina by the arm and approached the bar.

‘Evening,’ said the barmaid, who looked as though she would be more at home giving orders in the army. ‘What can I get yer?’

William turned to Tina.

‘Oh, just an orange juice for me please.’

‘Make that two, please.’

There was nowhere to sit, so they stood and leant against the bar and surveyed the little room. The initial curiosity had worn off and now the regulars were immersed in their previous activities. William turned to the barmaid.

‘I wonder if I might ask you something?’ It was a well worn routine now, albeit a routine that had turned out to be a fruitless one in the previous three pubs. ‘Do you know of a family round here named McBride, a farming family?’

The barmaid stopped polishing the glass she was holding and frowned. ‘You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid. McBride is not that uncommon round here.’

William sighed. It had been the same story in every pub they had been in. It seemed they had just not got enough information.

‘I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got. The family name is McBride and they used to live on a small farm in a remote location. There was no running water either, I believe, although that was over thirty years ago.’

The barmaid continued to vigorously polish the glass as she mulled this information over. ‘Why do you want to know, anyway?’

William cleared his throat. ‘Well I’m trying to trace my mother, you see. I was born here, thirty four year ago at St. Bridget’s Convent and was given up for adoption. I went to live in America, but I’ve come back to try and find my mother. I know she was from England originally, but she was sent here to live with her aunt because of…you know…’ William lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Because of the shame.’ He looked furtively round the room. ‘She wasn’t married, you see.’

The barmaid pursed her lips. ‘I see. And you tried the convent I suppose and they were most unhelpful.’

William cast a knowing glance at Tina. ‘You could say that.’

‘Well, let’s see if we can do any better. This was all thirty-odd years ago you say?’

William and Tina nodded in unison.

The barmaid put down her glass and called out to one of the men playing cards. He put down his hand and approached the bar. ‘What is it, Morag?’

She nodded towards William and Tina. ‘These two are looking for a family by the name of McBride, Father. Do you think you can help them?’

‘McBride you say? Can you be more specific?’

Morag smiled knowingly. ‘That’s what I said.’ She turned to William and Tina. ‘This is Father McIntyre, Priest of this Parish. If anybody can help you, he can.’

Half an hour later, William and Tina found themselves outside the pub clutching a piece of paper. Father McIntyre could not recall a McBride family matching the vague description William gave him, but he knew a man who might. William read the name Father McIntyre had written down for him.

‘Well, Tina, that’s tomorrow’s task sorted.’ He tucked the paper into his shirt pocket and mounted his decrepit bicycle. ‘Let’s hope this Father Drummond can help us find another piece of the jigsaw.’

Chapter 35

When William and Tina arrived back at Mrs Flanagan’s the landlady was already tucked up in bed. William groped around underneath the door mat and found the chunky door key. It groaned and clinked as he forced it into the lock and he winced as they both tiptoed across the threshold, careful not to disturb Mrs Flanagan.

‘Would you care for a nightcap?’ William whispered.

Tina hesitated for a second, but then nodded her head in agreement. Once they were seated in the front room, each cradling a tumbler of whisky, they relaxed a little more and their hushed tones were replaced by a more normal level of conversation. Tina laid her head back on the sofa and closed her eyes. The whisky burned its way to her stomach and the smell of it brought back memories of Rick. The lump in her throat made it difficult to swallow and she felt the tears start to well up behind her eyes. She silently prayed William would not notice, but he was far too astute.

‘Tina? Are you OK?’ He rushed to her side on the sofa. ‘Oh my God, you’re crying.’

She flicked away a tear with her little finger and forced a smile.

‘I’m fine, William, really, don’t worry.’

He took hold of her tumbler and placed it on the coffee table and then grasped both her hands in his. ‘From the second we met I’ve sensed a sadness in you. It’s in your eyes, Tina. You are so beautiful and have a gorgeous smile, but your eyes. You never smile with your eyes.’ He gripped her hands more firmly. ‘You’ve been so kind to me, coming all this way, I want to help you. Tell me what’s wrong.’

Poor William. He looked as though his own heart was breaking and there was no doubt his concern was genuine.

Tina indicated her tumbler on the table. ‘Would you mind?’

William passed it to her.

‘See this liquid here?’ She swirled the glass so violently that whisky sloshed over the top and landed in her lap. She didn’t seem to notice.

‘That liquid,’ she continued in a more venomous tone, ‘has literally ruined my life and cost the life of my daughter.’

William put his own glass down now, his appetite for the strong stuff suddenly vanishing.

‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ he asked cautiously. ‘I’d like to help if I can.’

Her tone softened as she turned to face him. ‘It’s too late, William. It’s too late. I’ve been a total idiot, blind to the obvious. I can see that now.’

William squeezed her hands again. ‘Go on.’

She took a deep breath, wrestled her hands free from William’s grip and wiped them down the length of her thighs.

‘I was a battered wife, William,’ she began. He went to say something, but she shushed him with a finger to his lips.

‘Everybody could see it but me. Graham, Linda, my boss at work, they could all see what was happening, but not me. Oh no, I was convinced he would change and that’s why I went back to him, gave him chance after chance. After he had beaten me, he was always so apologetic, so humble and incredibly loving. Sometimes he even cried at the way he had treated me and I felt sorry for him.’ She shook her head and paused before continuing. ‘Of course each time he promised he would never raise his fists to me again and, like a fool, I believed him. But then something would rile him, usually something small and insignificant. He would convince me it was my fault, that I made him do those things to me and I believed him then as well. Drink was at the root of it all of course, but it’s too simplistic to blame it all on the booze. He was a controlling bully who manipulated me in any way he could. I thought about leaving him for years but never had the courage. He always said he would track me down and I was so scared of him. Besides, I felt I would be deserting him when he so obviously needed help.’

William stared at Tina, his breathing becoming deeper and harder the more he heard of Tina’s story.

‘Anyway, one day I did pluck up the courage to leave. I found a cheap bedsit to rent and I left him. But the truth of it was I was lonely. I missed him.’ She turned to William. ‘Can you believe that? I actually missed him!’

William shook his head but said nothing.

‘He stopped drinking then and seemed to turn his life around. He coped without me and for some reason that hurt. He found a job and never harassed me to go back to him. He just sorted himself out and became the man I’d always wanted him to be. It was like he didn’t need me anymore, but he was playing the long game of course. Then I found out I was pregnant so I had no choice but to go back to him. As least that’s what I told myself. I was glad in a way. I needed him and besides, this time he really had changed. It was wonderful for a while and I was so happy. He was too and we were both excited about the new baby. I knew I’d made the right decision, even though Graham and Linda told me I was mad. What did they know, I thought.’ She forced out a sarcastic laugh. ‘Quite a lot, as it turned out.’

‘What happened then?’ William’s voice was thick with emotion.

Tina pointed to the glass. ‘That’s what happened. He started drinking again. Just a little bit at first. I even agreed with him that a drink with the lads after work on a Friday was acceptable. For most people it is, but not for him. It was a downward spiral into disaster and I should have seen it, but I had such an idealistic view of my marriage that I made excuses for him. I see now I was deluding myself of course, but that’s the clarity of hindsight. It has twenty-twenty vision alright.’

William steeled himself to ask the next question.

‘What happened to your baby? A little girl, you say? How did she…you know…what happened?’

‘I came home from work one day. I had a new pram for the baby. Well, it was new to me. Even so, I was excited and wanted to show him. He was in the kitchen and even with his back to me I knew something was wrong and immediately I felt the familiar fear. He was absolutely livid and I racked my brains to try and think what it was I had done to get him so riled. He had found Billy’s letter in my handbag and he thought it was addressed to me. My full name is Christina, you see. Anyway, I tried to explain of course, but he wasn’t listening. At that moment he was incapable of rational thought.’