Daughter of Mine (48 page)

Georgia, more sensitive to atmosphere than her halfbrother and sister, regarded the couple solemnly, her finger in her mouth, a sure sign of nervousness. Catherine gazed at the pretty child, with the mass of black curls and big brown eyes in the dusky face, dressed in a red woollen skirt and a cream jumper, and she smiled. This was no monster. This was just a child, like any other. ‘Come away,’ she said, putting out her arms, ‘and give your granny a wee hug.’

Georgia, still unsure, didn’t move. She looked up at Lizzie, who gave the child a little push forward and Catherine took her in her arms.

Niamh and Tom were bouncing with impatience to take Georgia and show her around the farm. As Catherine released the child, the children struggled into their coats, helped by Johnnie, for the day was a cold one, and Lizzie introduced Celia to her parents.

All Seamus and Catherine knew was that Celia was a staunch friend of Lizzie’s and Catherine acknowledged that after their treatment of their daughter it was a good job she had someone at her back, some
measure of support. So they had no trouble making Celia feel welcome and Celia thought the situation might be different entirely if Lizzie’s parents knew where the two had met up.

At the table, most of the talk was again carried by the children and Johnnie, although Scott gave a good account of himself and spoke of his mother, sister and brother and the business they owned.

Lizzie loved Scott’s voice, the way he used his hands as he spoke, and Catherine, catching sight of Lizzie’s eyes as she looked at Scott, knew that she was looking at a woman in love. In fact, seeing them together, it was obviously not a marriage of duty at all, and she was glad of it, though she thought it hard that her daughter would shortly be living so far away.

Celia thought it hard too, but knew her future was now in her own hands and she had to decide which way to jump. Her sexual feelings, which she thought she had securely under lock and key, had begun to surface when she met Johnnie again. She’d definitely not felt this way about him before, and had only seen him as a friend, but now…

It had begun in the station when their hands touched as Johnnie was stowing the cases into the cart, and it was a little like an electric shock passing up her arm and through her body. Johnnie had been aware of it too. Since then, as the days passed there had been other odd things: the way he smiled, laughed, even the way he held a glass or cup could send tremors through her.

She avoided being alone with him because she didn’t want to talk about her feelings till she got them sorted
out. She didn’t want him to declare his either, because before they could take their relationship further, could have any future together, Catherine and Seamus had to know where she came from, what her background was.

She discussed it with no one, for she couldn’t risk being talked out of it, and she chose a day when Johnnie had taken Scott, Lizzie and the children to Donegal town. She’d been asked too, but pleading a headache had said she would stay at home.

She thought the lie a necessary one and waited until she heard Seamus come in mid-morning for a drink before coming into the room.

‘How’s your head?’ Catherine asked her.

‘Never better,’ Celia said. ‘I never had a headache, and though I don’t like lies and deceit I needed to see the two of you alone and without any listening.’

There was a puzzled look on Catherine’s face. ‘Is there something ails you?’

‘No,’ Celia said. ‘Not in that way, but I think you should know that, though not a word has been said about it, I know your son Johnnie likes me. Maybe more than likes me.’

‘We know of it,’ Catherine said. ‘How do you feel about him?’

‘That’s just it,’ Celia replied. ‘I could return those feelings and more, for I love your son with all my heart and soul, but before I say this to him there is something I must tell you, something about my background. When I have finished, if you feel you don’t want such a person in your family, I will return to Birmingham and no harm done.’

Seamus and Catherine were thoroughly intrigued,
but as Celia’s tale unfolded, beginning from being exiled from the family to West Meath, they understood. Johnnie had told them some things about the convent, but it was hard to picture the horror of it without experiencing it, and Seamus and Catherine listened to a tale they could scarcely believe. Celia pulled no punches, and yet didn’t exaggerate or embellish, and they both knew she spoke the truth.

Seamus at first felt the same shock as he had when Lizzie had told him she was pregnant. It had been ingrained in him that it was by far and away the worst thing a girl could do to her family…but to treat the girls so brutally, surely that couldn’t be right. Yet, he had to be honest with himself. If he’d been aware of it all would he have fetched Lizzie from the place and stood against the shame of it? Johnnie was right, out of sight was out of mind.

Catherine wept as she realised that everything Celia spoke about, her own daughter had suffered too, and she reproached herself and more, especially as Lizzie was an innocent victim. But Celia, even now, was little more than a girl. Should she suffer all the days of her life for a mistake made when she’d not left childhood far behind? ‘I can’t speak for Seamus,’ she said, ‘but I would welcome you to this family.’

‘And so would I,’ Seamus said. ‘All in all, I think you have suffered enough.’

When Lizzie came back, Celia sought her out and told her what she’d done and how her parents had taken the revelation.

‘Why did you do it?’ Lizzie asked.

‘I think, given the slightest encouragement, Johnnie will ask me to marry him, and I couldn’t come here under false pretences. I’ll have no secrets, no skeletons in the cupboard.’

‘Do you love Johnnie?’

‘Aye, I do,’ Celia said. ‘I didn’t, I know I didn’t one time, and I don’t know why. Maybe it was too soon, maybe I was too young, but I know now. It’s come upon me suddenly, but it’s no less deep for that. I love him so much I long to be with him. I want to bear his children, children we can take joy in and watch grow up. I love him, Lizzie, more than I thought it was possible to love anyone.’

‘Oh, Celia, I’m so happy for you,’ Lizzie said in delight, and gave her a kiss.

Scott, Lizzie and the children left Celia in Ballintra when they returned to Birmingham, as she’d written to Fisher and Ludlow’s giving notice. Lizzie felt it a strange house without her, particularly when Scott went back to America to tell his family and arrange their passage over for the wedding.

Sometimes, Lizzie was gripped by anxieties and concerns, and it was always Violet who calmed these fears and said it was natural to feel apprehensive.

Lizzie woke on the morning of her wedding in a fever of nervous excitement. She knew that soon Celia would arrive to sort out the girls and Tom for her, because she and Johnnie, with Lizzie’s parents, had arrived two days before. Scott had arranged accommodation for them in the same hotel where he and his family were
booked in, and the two families had got on famously. ‘Fell on your feet at last,’ Celia said. ‘They’re lovely people.’

‘I know,’ Lizzie said, catching up Celia’s left hand. ‘I’ve met them, and I’m not the only one to fall on my feet, you dark horse. It’s a beautiful ring. When did you get engaged?’

Lizzie had never seen Celia blush before and it made her look more beautiful than ever. ‘About a week after you came back,’ she said. ‘No point in waiting.’

‘And the wedding?’

‘No date set yet,’ Celia said. ‘I’d like it if you could come over.’

‘I won’t promise,’ Lizzie said, ‘but I’ll do my level best. I would like to see someone make an honest woman of you.’

‘That’ll be the day,’ Celia said. The two laughed together, and when that laughter turned to tears as they hugged one another, neither was totally surprised.

The house was quiet. Celia and the children had left and everyone else was waiting at the church. Only Lizzie and Violet remained.

‘So,’ Violet said, coming into the bedroom as Lizzie stood before the mirror, ‘the future is going to be hunkydory for you, I’d say, and about time too.’

‘I know,’ Lizzie agreed dolefully.

‘So why the bloody long face?’

‘Oh, Violet, I’m going to miss you so much,’ Lizzie cried. ‘We’ve been through so much together and you really are a very special person.’

‘And so are you, Lizzie,’ Violet said, and her voice
was husky with unshed tears. ‘And much as I will miss you I’m glad you’re going. You’ll have a better life in America, the land of opportunity, they say, and the children can’t wait.’

‘I know. It would have been worse if they hadn’t wanted to go.’

‘Well, they do, and if we don’t get going your man will have a heart attack in the church thinking you’ve stood him up,’ Violet said.

‘He’ll know I’d not do that,’ Lizzie replied.

‘No, you’re not a fool altogether,’ Violet agreed.

Suddenly, it was too much for Lizzie. She was leaving all that she held dear for strangers, however kind they were, and Violet heard the gulping sob.

‘You ain’t crying?’

‘No.’

‘Liar,’ Violet said, and then, as the tears dribbled down Lizzie’s cheeks, she said, ‘Oh, come here, you silly sod,’ and she enfolded Lizzie in her arms. Lizzie cried out her fears and knew in that moment that no one would ever be able to take Violet’s place in her life.

They were all there that beautiful Saturday in late January when Lizzie stood at the door of St Catherine’s Church in a gown of blue satin, followed first by Georgia and then Niamh in bridesmaids’ dresses of peach. The church was full, neighbours and friends on one side and relations on the other. Lizzie tucked her arm in her father’s as the wedding march began and they walked slowly down the aisle.

And then Scott, standing beside Ben, who was his
best man, turned around, and his face had such love for Lizzie she felt it wash over her in a wave. Seamus delivered his daughter into Scott’s keeping and she stood beside him just as a shaft of winter sun, shining through the stained-glass windows, bathed them both in myriad shades of light.

This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents described in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

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FIRST EDITION

Copyright © Anne Bennett 2005

The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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