Page 211 of The Missing Sister

‘Listen now, Merry,’ Helen said, ‘I have to be off soon – my shift at the airport starts at one – but would you be able to come back and see me? I’m happy to answer any more questions you might be thinking of, so.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Helen, and I can’t thank you enough for being so open and honest with me.’

‘What’s there to lie about? All these years you’ve been living in fear, thinking that real terrorists were after you, and yes, Bobbywasa threat to you then, but if only you’d known that a year later he got locked up and will stay that way for the rest of his life...’

‘It would have made a huge difference.’ I gave Helen a glimmer of a smile.

‘I’d no idea he’d been after you, but I moved away up to Cork City after Mam died,’ she said. ‘I wanted to make a fresh start. You know how it is,’ she added as we walked to the door.

‘I do. So, you live here alone?’ I asked.

‘I do, so, and ’tis just fine by me. I’ve a way of picking the wrong fellow, but now I’ve my work, my girlfriends and my independence. You take care now, Merry, and give me a bell if you need anything.’ She gave me a brief but firm hug.

‘I will, and thanks a million, Helen.’

I walked to my car on wobbly legs and sat down heavily behind the steering wheel.

Bobby’s securely behind bars, Merry. He can never hurt you again, I told myself.He neverwasable to hurt you for all these years, and everything he told you was a product of his imagination...

I steered the car out of the drive, then took the first lane I saw. Parking my car between two large fields, I climbed over the fence and walked fast and hard between grazing cows. Rain was threatening, and grey clouds were hanging low overhead, but I sat down on the rough grass and began to sob.

It’s over, Merry, it’s really over... He can’t ever hurt you again. You’re safe, you’re safe...

It took me a long time to cry out all the tension, after holding it in for thirty-seven long years. I thought of all that had been lost because of it...

‘And found,’ I whispered, thinking of my beloved children and dear, dear Jock, who’d swept me up in his capable arms and put a blanket of security and love around me.

Looking at my watch, I saw it was almost one o’clock and I was late to meet the children for lunch. ‘Children!’ I muttered to myself as I brushed myself down and headed for the car. ‘Jack’s thirty-two, for goodness’ sake!’

Deciding that he really was a big boy now and perfectly capable of getting them both back to the hotel in a taxi, I called him and said I had a migraine – which wasn’t a lie as my head was thumping – and drove slowly back to Clonakilty. As I passed Bandon, I saw the turning to Timoleague, and on instinct I took it. There was somewhere I wanted to go.

I wended my way through the familiar streets and parked the car next to the church. It was a huge building for such a small village and there was something moving about the tiny stone-built Protestant church just below it and then the ruins of the Franciscan friary standing right out into the water.

‘What suffering has come from the differences in how we worshipped our God,’ I said out loud. Then I walked into the church where I had prayed and taken Mass every Sunday, and seen my mother lying in her coffin.

Walking down the aisle, I genuflected and curtseyed automatically at the altar, then turned to my right where a frame full of votive candles stood, their flames flickering in the draught creeping through the old windows. Whenever I’d come back from boarding school, I’d always been comforted by lighting one for my mother. Today I did the same, then dropped some more cents into the box as I lit another one for Bobby.

I forgive you, Bobby Noiro, for all you put me through. I’m sorry for your continual suffering.

Then I lit one for Jock. He’d been a Protestant by birth, coming from a Scots Presbyterian background. We’d married at the Church of the Good Shepherd by Lake Tekapo, under the magnificent Mount Cook. It had been interdenominational, welcoming people of all faiths through its door. At the time, I could hardly believe such a thing existed, but the fact that itdidhad made the day even more wonderful. We’d invited a small group of friends and Jock’s sweet and welcoming family, and the ceremony had been simple but beautiful. Afterwards, there’d been a drinks party on the Hermitage Hotel terrace, where we had first met and worked together.

I went to sit down on one of the pews, and bent my head in prayer.

‘Dear God, give me the strength to no longer live in fear, and to be honest with my children...’

Eventually, I stepped out into the church graveyard, where generations of the family I’d believed was mine by birth had been buried. I went to my mother’s grave and knelt down on the grass. I saw that a spray of wild flowers was arranged in a vase and presumed it was one of my sisters or brothers. Beside her was my father’s grave, the stone less weathered.

‘Mammy,’ I whispered, ‘I know everything you did for me, and how much you loved me, even though I wasn’t your blood. I miss you.’

Wandering along the lines, I saw Hannah’s and her husband Ryan’s graves, then Nuala’s. My grandmother had been interred alongside Christy and the rest of our clan, not with her beloved Finn up in Clogagh. I sent up a prayer, hoping that all of them rested in peace.

After meandering through the family graves, I looked for Father O’Brien’s headstone, but couldn’t find it. Eventually, I drove home, my mind feeling curiously empty. Maybe by allowing myself to acknowledge the trauma I had been through and its physical and mental effects on me over the decades, now I could finally begin to heal.

‘No more secrets, Merry...’ I said to myself as I arrived at the hotel, parked the car and walked inside. A note in my pigeonhole told me the children were already back from Cork. I went up to my room and downed a finger of whiskey. It was time. Summoning Mary-Kate and Jack to my room, I closed the door behind the three of us.

‘What’s up, Mum? You look very serious,’ Jack queried as I indicated they should both sit down.

‘I feel it. This morning I went to see somebody, and after I talked to her, I decided that, well, I needed to tell you a bit more about my past.’