The Traveller's Daughter Page 12

  Kitty’s eyes flicked across to the book thinking how innocuous it looked. “I will.” She got off the phone with a promise to phone her friend in the morning and a promise that she would not sleep with Damien again. Pulling herself up into a sitting position she plumped the cushions behind her back before reaching over for the book. She stroked its soft cover for a moment before lifting it up to her nose and inhaling deeply in the hope that she might catch a lingering last scent of her mother. She fancied she could almost smell the roses that had made up the dominant base notes of Rosa’s favourite perfume, Paris. It was ironic she thought, that a place where her mother had been so sad was also the namesake of her favourite fragrance. Opening the book she began to read.

  PART 2

  Chapter 11

  Mother’s hold their children’s hands for just a little while and their hearts forever – Irish Proverb

  Rosa’s Journal

  Kitty, it was never my intention to deceive you, and that was why I kept silent not trusting myself to open up to you. How could I? Not when I had let my family that came before you and Peter down the way I did. There’s an Irish saying, the future is not set; there is no fate but what we make for ourselves. It’s true Kitty.

  Your da knew where I came from but please don’t think that I’m passing the blame to him for my decision to keep that lid so firmly shut on my past until now. His reasons for not wanting me to tell you about where I came from were so very different to my own. While I was ashamed of the things that had come to pass, things that I could not rewrite even if I had wanted to, he I can see now was frightened. You see the idea of having to share you, his only child it was too much for him. We waited so long for you. All those years of hoping and heartbreak and finally when we had given up, there you were. Our dreams came true the day you arrived and took your place in the world with us. You, my darling daughter, were quite literally the apple of our eye.

  I loved him your da so don’t think as you read more that I didn’t. I loved Peter in a sensible and grown up way, and we were a happy family the three of us. When he died another little piece of myself went with him. I felt cast adrift in a world I didn’t understand just as I had done once before. I didn’t fit into this new version of the life I had built around the two of you without him in it, and I couldn’t go back to my old life. Far too many years and too much water had passed under the bridge for that. I felt as though I was hovering in the limbo whispered fearfully about behind the hands of all good Catholic children like the one I once was.

  You are probably wondering why I didn’t ring you and talk to you about how I was feeling? The thing is though Kitty, you had your life to lead which is the way it should be. I didn’t want to burden you with woes that you couldn’t fix. I once heard it said that your children are only on loan; they are not yours to keep. Those words stayed with me because although it’s hard, it is also the natural cycle of life. That’s why I sold Rose Cottage when perhaps I should have taken the time to talk to you first.

  I know you weren’t happy with me about that. In hindsight, I can see that you must have felt like the rug had been pulled out from under your feet. You’d lost your beloved da and then, to top it off, you were losing the home you’d grown up in too. Your childhood home was your safety net in bricks and mortar. A place to come back to when things weren’t right in your world but sweetheart try and understand. Things weren’t right in my world. I had no choice; I had to move on. There were too many memories snapping at my heels as I roamed the rooms of that house and without you and Peter filling the spaces, the happy memories were seeping out through the cracks.

  Peter was there for me when I needed him most. He picked up the pieces, dusted me off and helped me to live again all those years ago. So it was for him as much as it was for myself that I chose not to tell you where I came from until now. I hope you don’t think me a coward for not staying around to face the music.

  I do have regrets though. Oh yes, I regret that your da never got to give you away at your wedding. I regret that neither of us got the chance to see you married and happy with a baby of your own. I would have liked to have met my grandchild or grandchildren. I would have been a good granny too you know Kitty. I would have done all those naughty things like let them eat far too many sweeties and stay up late when they came to visit at my house. I regret too that we only had you for your sake and have often wondered whether we should have tried to adopt. Would you have liked a little brother or sister? Someone to play with, someone to fight with. That was a road we never went down though because it would have meant well-meaning people delving into my past, and neither I nor Peter wanted that.

  Ah, but I would have liked you to have experienced some parts of the chaotic, rambunctious childhood I had. That’s a big word rambunctious, a big word not learned or understood in my younger years. My love of big and complicated sounding words came later. Do you remember how I drove your da mad with some of the words I’d find to spell out on that scrabble board of ours?

  You’ve grown up knowing no more than that I was raised in Ireland. There was both struggle and simplicity in that upbringing that I have never talked to you about before. Yes we were expected to work hard, and there was hardship to bear too, but in return there was the freedom of carefree hours spent roaming fields far and wide with my siblings. Mind you, my girl I wouldn’t have been so keen on you using the language my brothers and sister were prone to tossing about. If our mammy had been bothered by it, she could have taken out shares in the Lux factory with the number of times she should have washed their mouths out. Not mine though. I always fancied myself to be a bit different from the rest of them even way back then. I proved I was in the end too, but it came at a heavy cost.

  Oh, but I am getting ahead of myself and all that’s beside the point because nature didn’t intend a big family for me and Peter. I think he liked it that way too because it was what he knew with only your Aunt Maura left on his side. I used to wonder though, from time to time if my inability to conceive another child was some form of karma for losing my faith, or whether it was divine payback for the pain Michael and I inflicted. It’s strange isn’t it all these religious connotations from someone who has not stepped foot in a church for so many years? Either way, I think that just having you made Peter and I love you all the more. When there is only one child it is impossible to imagine it any other way, or that there could ever be another so special whose antics and achievements could delight so. We poured all our energies into you, Peter and I. You were, are my darling, our greatest achievement. I know too that by the time you read these words that I have taken too long in writing, it will be just you left in this world. Know that you were loved though. Always know that Kitty, my child.

  I hope your da and I didn’t stifle you with all the love we poured on you our precious daughter. I, of all people should have respected your need to breathe and to have the freedom to grow up on your terms. You can’t know how hard it is to let a child go until you have your own though Kitty. That’s just another of life’s funny little quirks that you find out about along the way.

  I always planned to tell you where I came from when you turned eighteen. That date was fixed in my mind as the day you would officially be an adult. Old enough to drink and were you a boy, old enough to go to war. It was an age where I felt you would be able to glean some understanding for my reasons for keeping silent. You’ll realise I’m sure, having spoken with Christian by now, what a hypocrite I was, given what I was up to at sixteen!

  That’s a mother’s right though, something else you’ll realise when you are a mammy yourself. Part of my reason for not telling you where I came from was a mix of shame at my actions so young. Age you see is noble, but youth is honourable. There was also a deep rooted fear on my part that you would want to find my family. In doing so, the lid on my Pandora’s Box could never again be closed. Oh, I wasn’t ready for that. The thing is though, I always thought that the day would come when I was ready to face the past a
nd now that it has, its too late.

  Of course, you know now that your eighteenth birthday came and went with a celebratory and much anticipated long weekend in Prague, and not a word about any of this uttered on my part. Ah, but that was a special holiday wasn’t it? It was so poignant for Peter and myself. We felt like we were saying goodbye to the little girl we’d raised and meeting the woman she’d become for the first time. We were both so very proud of you with your big grown-up plans of moving up to Edinburgh ‘where it was all happening’ you said to begin your chef’s apprenticeship. It was to be your first foray towards independence. As hard as the idea of that was to a couple whose child had been their whole world, we also knew it was inevitable. We would have to find our way of muddling along alone together.

  It was a sense of pride tinged with sadness at the passing of time though, and I’ll never forget the way Peter gripped my arm that little bit tighter as we strolled across the Charles Bridge. You strode on ahead in your thoroughly impractical outfit. I was amazed that at the pace you were setting you didn’t break your neck on the old cobbles. Do you remember those shoes you were wearing? That clunky high heel was all the go that summer and you weren’t the only girl tottering about in them, but you were the girl who was drawing all the admiring glances. I think that was when it truly hit Peter that despite all those years of keeping you close, one day soon he was going to have to learn to share you. The alternative should he refuse to do so would be to lose you.

  You were so eager to get to the castle on the other side of that bridge. I remember the way the sun caught your hair and made it glow with a Rapunzel-like, spun gold as the gentle wind blew it back from your shoulders. It seemed fitting that we were off to visit a castle with our princess. There was such a sense of joie de vivre about you. Looking at your face alight with all the new and exciting things about to fill your days I knew I wouldn’t tell you, not yet. I justified my decision by convincing myself that it was not because I was frightened of losing you to my estranged family. It was because I was frightened of how you’d react to the fact we hadn’t had enough faith in you to let you make your own decision where they were concerned.

  I didn’t trust in my family’s ability to forgive either, and I wanted to protect you from a rejection that I was the cause of. Nor had they been willing to meet you, did I want you to get bogged down in their world and their ways. Not even if I’d known there might have been the possibility of the love of an extended family in return. The world you were destined to occupy needed to be bigger than theirs. At least that’s what I thought watching you on the cusp of leading your life independently as you stepped out across the Charles Bridge that day.

  You see I know you too well Kitty. I knew that had I told you, you would have run to them, and you’d have lost yourself and your dreams in doing so. Remember though, their ways and who they are don’t define you as a whole, they only make a half. I was a fool in my choices. I can see that now because as it transpired you left your dreams behind anyway. Now that I have to leave you I want nothing more but for you to fit into a family that you should have been allowed to know.

  When your da died it changed everything because I didn’t just lose him, it was the beginning of my loss of you. I was so caught up in my grief because Peter had always been my anchor. He was the man who had grabbed hold of me all those years ago and stopped me drifting. Yes in hindsight I should have spoken to you about selling Rose Cottage. By the time, I had made my mind up to do so though, you were living in Edinburgh and already making noises about moving to Manchester. You were unsettled and I unsettled you more. But it was me who was the one at home with my memories, and without my lovely Peter. It was too much Kitty. The silence was unbearable. I craved the sounds of traffic and the sense of being surrounded by others. It is of course ironic, given that in my youth I couldn’t wait to escape the noise of others; I’d craved the idea of silence. The reality of it though was so very different.

  Ah, but sweetheart I wish you hadn’t left your apprenticeship in Edinburgh. You’d be a fully qualified chef by now. You could have opened a restaurant or travelled the world making a name for yourself in all the best eating places. You have talent my girl that comes from having a passion. Your passion is your sweet-tooth, and my passion was learning. Oh and what a sponge I was soaking everything I could up when I met Peter and at last got the opportunity to do so.

  Time as it passes plays tricks on you, and the day I met your da though over forty years ago still seems like yesterday when I think of it now. I caught his eye as he swaggered around the fair that had been set up overnight on the outskirts of Preston where I was living, not knowing that was where I would wind up staying too. He was with a group of lads all with hair sitting a tad too long on their collars to mark the end of the sixties, all of them hoping they’d pull. It was those blue eyes of your da’s though, that made the sun come out for me from behind the black cloud it had been hiding behind for so long.

  A girl, Barbara I think her name was, from the boarding house I was staying in had dragged me along for a day out with her. I’d felt like I was embarking on a game of the Russian roulette. My arm was linked through hers as we wandered past the Merry-Go-Round and those hideous clowns with the rotating heads, their mouths agog waiting for a ball to be stuffed in. The smell of popping corn and sickly sweet candy floss tickled at my nose as I wondered whether any of my kin were there. It was a possibility you know. Sure my Uncle Davey and his offspring had crossed the water years back and followed the fairs about for work. I never saw them, but the handsome man who had paused to lean nonchalantly against the wall with the Ferris wheel towering behind him became my future kin.

  Peter was the first person I confided in that I was illiterate, and you can close your mouth now sweetheart. It's true I never went to school and neither did my mammy or her auld mammy before her, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t know things. Those two women, they were wise in ways the written word could never compensate. But I always yearned for more and some would say later that that was my downfall.

  I knew as soon as I met your da that I could unburden an illiteracy I had kept as my secret shame. I had become so very clever at covering the tracks my lack of learning left as I went along my lonely way. I found odd jobs to hide behind and keep the wolf from my door. Your da as you know, was that rare breed of man, both intelligent and kind. He took me in hand, and it was he who I confided my past in. Peter loved me and unleashed my thirst for learning. My quest to drink at the fountain of knowledge became a living breathing thing that was to last me my lifetime. It was my passion and my joy. Please don’t lose sight of yours Kitty.

  I try not to blame myself for you taking the apron of your apprenticeship off and tossing it aside after only six months. This little voice has niggled away at me though, that by selling Rose Cottage in the way I did, I took away your last vestige of security. I gave you more upheaval when your world had already tilted on its axis with your da’s passing. The thing is though sweetheart, I’ve learned as I have gone on something my mammy tried to explain to me when I was a child. A house is just something that keeps you warm and dry. It’s the people inside it that make it a home.

  That’s why I got so angry when you telephoned me that afternoon and told me you were leaving Edinburgh. You had the opportunity to fulfil your dreams and you tossed that chance away. You decided to go and sit in an office like Dolly Parton did in that auld movie of hers ‘9 to 5’ day in day out typing. Sure and where’s the creativity in that Kitty my girl? I thought to myself as you tried to explain that you were sick of the hours, of being shouted at and the poor pay that was part and parcel of learning your trade. You couldn’t see the big picture though, and it frustrated me so.

  A few more years of self-sacrifice and then you’d be free to go anywhere and do anything! I’d forgotten that packing things in when the going gets tough is the prerogative of the young because you live in the present and can’t imagine a middle-aged or elderly existence. You wa
nted to be having fun, out in the big wide world. So you set up house with your friends in Manchester and paid your way by starting work as a secretary. Instead of being proud of you for managing your life I criticised your decisions. I’m sorry for that my darling, I should have trusted you to take a round-a-bout path before finding your way. You are your mother’s daughter after all.

  If you hadn’t of taken that job and moved to the city, you’d have never met Damien. I knew you were smitten when you bought him home to meet me. You hadn’t done that with any of your other men friends. I will grant you he was handsome, and I know he made you laugh. I sensed he had another side to him though, so while I could see what you saw in him I never warmed to him. He’d give you an egg that one if you promised not to break the shell.

  He made you happy for a while stilling that restlessness running through your blood as it still does mine, even after all my long, settled years with Peter. I knew he would hurt you one day though, I had seen it. I have the sight you see, Kitty as did my mammy and her auld mammy. I think you do too. Don’t be frightened of it. Some say it is a gift, but I say it just is, no more no less than that.

  The day you turned up to show off the beautiful ring he’d presented you with I hoped I was wrong about him. I wanted to tell you not to mistake a goat’s beard for a fine stallion’s tail, but you said he was the man you wanted to marry. I want to spend the rest of my life with him, you told me your voice trembling with excitement. The thing was I knew the truth of what would happen but still I tried so very hard to join in on your joy. You were always the kind of child who learned the hard way, Kitty. You were headstrong and wouldn’t be told so I knew if I confided that he was not the man for you it would fall on deaf ears.