Women and Children First (36 page)

From the first day at the summer house, Molly started flirting with Reg again, trying to resurrect their former intimacy. He kept her at arm’s length, not least because he didn’t want to tread on Alphonse’s toes, and she soon became frustrated at his lack of response.

‘What a stuffed shirt you are!’ she jibed. ‘Come for a walk on the beach. It’s a beautiful day and they’re flying kites over in the next bay.’

Reg pretended he had to polish some glasses, hoping that would get rid of her, but instead she hovered in the doorway to chat as he worked.

‘Hey, guess what! I can hear Mr Grayling and Miss Hamilton upstairs at night,’ she told him in a stage whisper. ‘My bedroom is right underneath hers. Don’t you want to know what they are up to?’

‘It’s none of our business,’ Reg replied, but that didn’t deter her.

‘He’s crazy as a bedbug about her, but she holds him back, saying he can’t touch her until she has a ring on her finger.’ She paused for effect, but Reg carried on polishing the wine glasses without comment. ‘He thinks it’s too soon after Mrs Grayling’s death for him to get married again, but meanwhile she’s costing him a fortune in jewellery and clothes and I get the feeling he’s paid off lots of her debts from back home. There’s no fool like an old fool, my mother always says.’

‘And you’ve heard all this through the bedroom floorboards, have you?’ Reg was dubious.

Molly shrugged. ‘That, and when they’re sitting inside while I do the housework. They’ve been arguing a lot since we got here. Didn’t you even notice?’

Reg shrugged.

‘Those glasses are sparkling like diamonds. If you polish them any more you’ll wear the surface off. Won’t you come out for a walk with me? I need to talk to you about something. Please? We don’t have to go near the ocean if you don’t want to.’

Reg really didn’t want to be on his own with her. He glanced round, racking his brains for another job he could pretend was urgent. Alphonse had gone to market, Fred was fishing, and Mr Grayling and Miss Hamilton were sitting on the verandah reading the newspapers.

‘What if they ring for something?’ He gestured in the direction of the verandah.

‘Mrs Oliver is upstairs. She’ll tend to them.’

‘OK, just for ten minutes,’ he agreed at last. ‘But I don’t want to talk about Mr Grayling’s affairs any more. I’m lucky I still have a job here and I don’t want to push my luck.’

He didn’t own any canvas deck shoes, so Molly persuaded him to strip off his leather lace-ups and socks and walk barefoot on the sand. It was very fine-milled, golden sand, which felt soft and cool between the toes. He rolled up his shirt sleeves, unfastened his top button and let the sea breeze ruffle his hair. Molly linked her arm through his and he felt uncomfortable but didn’t like to push her away.

‘It wasn’t Mr Grayling I wanted to talk to you about,’ she said, her voice low and husky. ‘It was us. I’m sad that we’re not friends any more, the way we used to be. I like you, Joh … I mean, Reg.’ She laughed nervously. ‘It’s taking me a while to get used to your new name. You suit Reg better, though. It’s a proper English name, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose so.’ They walked along the top of the beach, with the spiky grass of the dunes to their left, but he kept glancing out towards the ocean. There were gentle little waves at the shoreline but beyond that there was a flat calm, just as there had been the night the
Titanic
sank. That was partly why they hadn’t spotted the iceberg on time. Normally, waves lapping against a berg would have made it more visible, but there weren’t any that night.

‘What do you reckon? Can we start again?’ Molly squeezed his arm and tilted her head to one side to look up at him with a girlish pleading expression.

Reg took a deep breath. ‘Molly … I’m sorry. I should never have fooled around with you before. I don’t want to get involved with any girls right now, and I don’t feel right having a girl in the house where I work. Especially since there are so few of us here at the summer house. Everyone would notice.’

‘Is it because of your girl back home?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘Are you still in love with her?’

Reg nodded. ‘Yes, I love her, but it’s not that. I just need to be on my own. Besides, I saw you with Alphonse. He seems keen on you.’

‘Oh,
him
!’ She waved her hand dismissively. ‘He’s always had a thing about me, but he’s not my type. It’s
you
I like.’ She sniffed loudly, and he turned to see there were tears pooled in her eyes, ready to spill over. ‘Do you think I have a chance? When you are ready?’

Reg detached his arm from hers. He had to make himself clear once and for all. ‘You deserve someone much better than me,’ he told her. ‘Look at you! You’re pretty and clever and good at your job. You’ll find a wonderful husband some day.’

‘I have lots of plans for us, Reg. Let me tell you them, because you might change your mind.’ He started to interrupt, to say that nothing would change his mind, but she talked over him. ‘Remember when you told me that you want to open your own restaurant some day and I said I would help you in front of house? I think we’d make a great team. Well, I’ve been thinking of ways we could raise the money to get started and I’ve come up with a super idea.’ She gave a self-conscious little laugh and turned to face him. He stopped walking. ‘My idea is that we go to Mr Grayling together. We tell him that we know he didn’t put his wife on a lifeboat on the
Titanic
. We know he was having an affair on the ship with a lady who is less than half his age. We know that there was no Miss Hamilton on the list of survivors, so she was using a fake name, which means she might be running away from something. We could say we suspect that he killed Mrs Grayling, but I don’t think we need to. We’ll have his attention by then. Anyway, we can say that if he doesn’t pay up, we’ll go to the newspapers together and spill the beans. We need to figure out how much cash we want. I don’t know …’

‘Stop!’ Reg was shocked. He raised his open hand as if to push her away. ‘Don’t say another word.’

‘I thought you’d be happy. It would take us years to save up enough money from our pay, but this would be a short cut. Nobody gets hurt. He has lots of money to spare. He wouldn’t exactly miss a few thousand bucks.’

‘It’s blackmail. You can’t seriously think I would go along with this. It’s against the law. If he had any sense, he would call the police straight away.’

‘But he can’t, can he? That’s the beauty of it all. He wouldn’t even dream of calling the police.’

Reg regarded her with horror. She had absolutely no sense of morality. He knew his own standards had fallen well short of ideal recently, but what she was suggesting was criminal. Any guilt he had felt for leading her on faded at that moment.

‘Molly, what you are suggesting is wrong and dangerous and I would never be a party to it. I want nothing to do with your plan, and I’ll deny all knowledge if you say anything of the kind to Mr Grayling. Please keep away from me.’ He turned to head back to the house.

‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’ she called after him, sounding bemused. ‘Think how easy it would be.’

He didn’t reply but hurried along the sand, anxious to put physical distance between them. He noticed Alphonse standing on top of a dune and waved, but didn’t go over to say hello.

Father Kelly knocked on the door one morning and asked Annie if she would consider conducting a séance for a woman whose two-year-old daughter had died of cholera the previous year.

‘She’s still beside herself with sorrow. The poor woman just keeps repeating to me that little Dorothy won’t be able to look after herself in heaven, that she is too young to be without her mother, and all the wisdom I can offer from the Scriptures brings no relief. I told her about you and she has set her mind on meeting you and asking if you can contact her little girl.’ Father Kelly smiled winningly. ‘I understand your reluctance, but in this case I know you could do so much good just by telling the woman that her daughter is safe in heaven. Will you do it, Annie?’

Annie had severe misgivings but she had been brought up to believe that the parish priest was the next best thing to Jesus. Whatever he asked of you, you should do without argument because he knew best. That’s what was in her mind when she said ‘All right, Father. When would she like to meet me?’

‘How about this afternoon? Three o’clock. At my house.’

At least that didn’t give her much time to worry about it. She had some embroidery work to do that morning and after lunch the children could go to her neighbour. It would mean an extra journey up and down the step street, and Annie had been trying to keep them to once a day because her knees had begun to swell, especially the right one, but there was no getting around it.

She arrived at Father Kelly’s house early and sat in the dining room on her own, trying to get into the right frame of mind for the séance. She imagined what it must be like to lose a two-year-old: just past baby stage and still so helpless that they wouldn’t survive a day on their own without adult help. The little girl would barely be able to talk. How could Annie report what she was saying if it was all baby talk? She decided she would just have to use her instincts as a bereaved mother to judge what to say.

The woman who came into the room was shaking with nerves and Annie’s heart went out to her.

‘Please sit down. Take my hand.’ She smiled warmly to show that she wasn’t scary. You read in magazines about some mediums who spoke in strange voices and vomited a white airy substance called ectoplasm, but that would never be her style.

Father Kelly sat beside her and linked hands with the two of them. Annie gripped the woman’s hand to try and calm her, then she bowed her head, closed her eyes and focused, just as Pepita had done. Instantly, she could hear the word ‘Mama’ in her head, with the accent on the second ‘a’, so she repeated it.

The woman gasped. ‘That’s what she called me. Just like that.’

Annie concentrated hard. ‘I can see a tiny girl with a much older woman, perhaps her grandmother. She is sitting on her knee.’

‘She must be with my mother,’ the woman exclaimed.

Annie found some words in her brain and repeated them. ‘Your mother says Dorothy is a little sweetheart. They play together every day. She says Dorothy comes to visit you when you are on your own at home. She puts her arms round you but she is not sure if you feel it.’

‘I do. Many times I’ve thought I felt her but I didn’t dare to hope.’ Annie could hear the woman was crying, so decided to keep the séance brief.

‘Your mother wants you to start living your life again. She says none of this was your fault. There’s nothing you could have done to save Dorothy. You will always carry this sadness, but there will be happy times as well if you let them in. She and Dorothy will be with you for ever, both in this world and the next.’

She opened her eyes and released the woman’s hand to offer a handkerchief that she had thought to conceal up her sleeve. They chatted for a while afterwards, then as she stood up to say goodbye the woman grabbed Annie in a fierce embrace.

‘You’re a saint, so you are. You don’t know what you’ve done for me.’

‘I hope it helps,’ Annie told her. The strain of her suffering was etched all over the woman’s face. ‘You look after yourself now.’

In retrospect, she felt it had probably been the right thing to do. Father Kelly certainly thought so.

‘You have great sensitivity and compassion,’ he said. ‘Seeing the way you handled her, I would have no hesitation in recommending you to others.’

‘Please, not too many, Father; only those who are in most need. It’s very hard for me.’

Stepping into another woman’s grief had been arduous, taking her into some of her own darkest moments. She knew only too well that desperate yearning for one last hug with your child, and the guilt that you had failed as a mother because you were unable to protect them through to adulthood. These were feelings that tortured her every day.

When Annie got back to the apartment she felt utterly drained. She sat and stared out the window for half an hour without seeing anything, unable to concentrate on her embroidery or talk to Finbarr or think a single coherent thought, until Patrick came home from school saying he was famished.

Once she had given one reading, the requests began to flood in. That woman must have talked to her friends, who passed it on, and it seemed everyone in the parish knew someone in heaven they wanted her to contact. Even with Father Kelly acting as gatekeeper, she was overwhelmed by the demand for her services.

‘I will do one séance a week,’ she told him firmly, ‘but they will all be brief. I will leave it to you to choose the most deserving candidate.’

Most of her readings were for women who had lost husbands or children, but occasionally a man came. By concentrating and listening hard, Annie found she almost always had a picture in her brain and sometimes words came into her head as well, so she passed them on. She discovered that the recipients wanted to believe so fervently that they never doubted her ability. Without fail, they were grateful for the comfort she offered.

Word spread beyond their little parish. Camille Ozaney, the dressmaker for whom Annie did the embroidery, told some of her upper-class customers and instantly a fresh avalanche of requests for readings came through to Father Kelly. Most of them he turned down, especially if the person concerned was not Catholic, but there was one he asked her to consider: Mrs Marian Sheldon was a wealthy Park Avenue lady whose husband had died on the
Titanic
, and she hadn’t set foot out of her house since then. She was so overcome with grief that she barely got out of her bed and her doctor was seriously concerned for her health. She would give anything for Annie to come to her home and conduct a séance there, and Father Kelly strongly urged her to do it.

‘Her husband didn’t make it onto a lifeboat and she’s worried that maybe he is still alive somewhere but has lost his memory. He was last seen on deck with two of his friends, and their bodies have been found but not his. She hopes that you will be able to tell her once and for all if he is dead or alive. Of course, he must be dead…’

‘I can’t tell her that.’

‘Of course you can, Annie. You didn’t find Finbarr’s body but you know his spirit is no longer on this earth. All you need do is give the same certainty to Mrs Sheldon.’

So insistent was he that Annie began to wonder whether some donation to the church had been promised. Under the circumstances, she felt she had no choice but to agree. Mrs Sheldon said that her driver would collect her and bring her home again afterwards so that was at least one less thing to worry about.

Annie wore her Sunday best for the trip to Manhattan. She was nervous getting into the shiny automobile that stopped down at the bottom of her step street. The only other time she’d been in one was the night they arrived in New York. She found it much more comfortable than taking a tram, and a much smoother ride than in a pony and cart. Finbarr would have loved it. He’d always been fascinated by motor cars.

They pulled up outside a huge house with all the shutters drawn. Inside there was an air of melancholy, with dust motes dancing in shafts of light that crept round the edges of the shutters, and a heavy silence, broken only by the chiming of a clock every quarter hour. The carpets were deep and luxurious, just as they had been in the
Titanic
’s first-class dining room, but there were no bouquets of flowers or glittering chandeliers. Everything was sombre.

The butler led Annie upstairs to a small bedsitting room where there was a table with a candle already burning. A woman sat behind the candle. At first, from her slumped posture and the shawl pulled tight around her shoulders, Annie thought she must be elderly, but as she drew closer, she realised Mrs Sheldon’s face was unlined. She was probably only in her twenties.

Annie sat down and greeted the woman before taking both her hands. She didn’t stop to chat but bowed her head and began to concentrate hard. She thought about those last moments on the
Titanic
’s decks. She had visualised what it must have been like so many times that she could see it clearly in her mind’s eye. Then she pictured a well-dressed man in his twenties or thirties, and a scene came into her head.

‘He’s wearing a dinner suit. There’s a pocket watch in his waistcoat pocket.’

Mrs Sheldon gave a little gasp. ‘That’s him!’

‘He is helping women onto lifeboats, offering his arm to assist them across the slanting deck. He’s talking to them, helping to reassure them.’ The picture changed. ‘Now he is standing with two friends. They’re holding onto the railings. He’s not afraid. They are joking with each other.’ Suddenly Annie could hear some words in her head, and she repeated them verbatim. ‘It’s the darnedest thing, Marian. A wave swept across but I didn’t even feel how cold it was. I was instantly in another world where it is light and beautiful, and I knew I had died but it was easy to pass over. It wasn’t hard.’

There was the sound of a strangled sob from across the table.

Annie continued repeating the words that came into her head. ‘My dear, you must get up and face the world again. You are spoiling your own health. You are young and beautiful and I want you to remarry, as soon as you are ready. Choose a good man, have children with him, and name the first son after me, if you will. I will watch over you and yours until we meet again.’

The woman was breathing heavily, and Annie decided that was enough. ‘He’s gone now,’ she said, releasing her hands. ‘I hope you heard what you wanted to know.’

‘That was incredible!’ Mrs Sheldon said, clearly stunned. ‘Not only did you speak in his words but your voice began to sound like his. I can’t tell you what a relief it is finally to know the truth. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

A footman brought a tray of lemonade and Mrs Sheldon asked Annie about her family, about Finbarr and about her life in Kingsbridge. She offered money, which Annie refused to take.

‘My husband and I have discussed it and we feel very strongly that we should not profit from séances,’ she explained. ‘It wouldn’t seem right.’

‘You are a good woman indeed. I will try to start living again, as my husband wants me to, and I will never forget your kindness in coming to see me today.’

The next afternoon, Annie was working on her embroidery when there was a knock on the door. There stood Mrs Sheldon’s chauffeur and a footman carrying three huge boxes. They were scarlet-faced and panting with the effort of carrying them up the step street.

‘Mrs Sheldon hopes you will accept these presents for your children,’ the chauffeur said. ‘May we come in and put them down somewhere?’

Annie couldn’t believe her eyes. There was a clockwork train set for Patrick, a wooden rocking horse for Ciaran and a doll’s house full of exquisite furniture and tiny china dolls for Roisin. She couldn’t possibly refuse such wonderful gifts. The children were overcome with excitement, and even Seamus was moved when he saw them.

‘What a smart lady. She realised that you wouldn’t be able to refuse gifts for the little ones.’

Annie was less happy a few days later when Father Kelly showed her an item that had been printed in the
New York Times
: ‘Kingsbridge Woman Contacts Spirits of Those Lost on
Titanic
’, the headline read. Mrs Sheldon had spoken to a reporter. If there had been massive demand for Annie’s services before, it was about to get out of control.