The Ladies' Midnight Swimming Club(74)

‘Indeed, it probably is that.’ She looked towards her sister. ‘Delores dear, will you bring in tea and if you don’t mind, Dan, I’d like to tell you all a story when we’ve had a slice of that lovely cake Elizabeth has baked for me.’

It seemed to Elizabeth as if the room, old-fashioned and all as it was, was the perfect place to drink tea and listen to stories, so they sat back and waited until she’d had a large slice of cake and brushed the crumbs from her robes; then she was ready.

‘The story I’m going to tell you now, is of a young girl who found herself in trouble at a time when there was nothing else for it but to give up your baby or forever bring shame upon your family. However, this young girl did what she thought was best for her baby and she married a respectable, older man who promised to give both her and her child a good life. Perhaps it would have all worked out well, in the end…’

Elizabeth felt her chest constrict, the most terrible opening up of pain somewhere deep within her, as if a vast chasm of grief was about to engulf her. She felt the tears trickle down her cheek, but there was no stopping them. Dan reached out and took her hand and she held onto it tightly, as if her very life depended on it.

Mother Agatha looked across at Elizabeth now, who had started to cry, a soft keening sound that might have come from a heartbroken child but she nodded at the nun to continue.

‘Except the man she married was not what he seemed to be and unfortunately the child she was carrying turned out to be more like his biological father than she ever realised…’

‘Oh, God. Vano?’ Elizabeth whispered. ‘He was Roma, but I never thought…’

‘No, of course you didn’t, dear, how could you? You were hardly more than a child yourself. Anyway, when the baby arrived – coloured and obviously not the child of Dr O’Shea, the midwife panicked. Sister Bernadette took the child out for the doctor to decide what the best thing to do was.’

‘After all this time…’ Elizabeth shook her head. There was no wrapping her understanding around the words that were upending the sadness she’d carried for so many years.

‘You see, a man like that—’ Mother Agatha leant towards Dan now ‘—so very respectable, front seat of the church every Sunday, well he couldn’t possibly bring home a coloured baby, could he?’

‘They told me you died, that your heart was too weak.’ Elizabeth was crying now, the tears racing down her cheeks, her shoulders shuddering, her expression a mixture of relief, sadness and sheer joy. ‘Oh, my darling boy…’ She reached out and placed her hand on his face, still taking in the truth of it all. ‘My, darling, darling child, I can’t believe it’s you after all this time.’

‘So, I’m…’ Dan couldn’t find the words. It was all too much to take in, but he was crying, tears of happiness. His eyes were filled with the same joy that Elizabeth knew was marking out her own.

‘Anyway, I was given the charge of placing this coloured baby with an English family. To be honest, I hadn’t a clue where the baby had come from, only that it had arrived in the orphanage in the middle of the night and there was no mother to show for it. But then, at the time, it wasn’t unusual for a baby to be left off, the mother probably hoping that a good home would be found and she could get on with what was left of her own life.’

‘So, how did you…’ Elizabeth wasn’t sure what she wanted to ask first, but she knew Mother Agatha had to get her story finished before she could begin to pick apart the million questions, they both had for her.

‘The problem was, I didn’t realise for many, many years exactly who you were. It was not until old Sister Bernadette was dying that she told me where the baby had come from. You know, by then, Ireland had changed and for some of us, brave enough to go out into the world, we realised that not every orphan was well placed; indeed very many were sent to places you wouldn’t put a dog.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘By then you would have been a young man. I could only pray that I’d done the right thing in leaving you with the family we’d found in England.’

‘Oh, yes, my mum and dad, they really are salt of the earth,’ he said and a feeling of gratefulness welled up in Elizabeth.

‘Sister Bernadette was racked with guilt over her part in it all.’ She looked now at Elizabeth. ‘Of course, she’d panicked and then once she’d brought the child out, there was no changing Dr O’Shea’s mind. He… well, we both know the sort of man he was and there was no going back, was there? I mean you believed your child was buried in the grave of the angels. God knows, you spent enough time up there cleaning it up and putting flowers on it every week.’ She shook her head sadly.

‘It wasn’t wasted time. Those little babies deserved that at the very least,’ Elizabeth whispered.

‘Yes, they did indeed.’ She stopped for a moment. ‘Oh, Elizabeth, I’m so sorry, but by the time I realised, it was too late. I agonised over telling you the truth, but then I felt that there was no telling what knowing after all that time might do to you. It could send a woman mad – I think, if it was me, it might have tipped me over completely.’

‘It’s a lot to take in,’ Elizabeth said, but she reached out to the old nun. ‘But I understand, things were so different then. Everyone was doing what they believed was right. You, Agatha, above any of the nuns in the convent, I know you would have paid a heavy price worrying about the rights and wrongs of it. But it was beyond our reach, back then, we were all so powerless.’ They both began to cry now, but it was as if they were both somehow released – these were not tears of bitterness or sadness, but rather joy beyond which Elizabeth had ever known.