Authors: Paula Martin
"It wasn't so much where you're working. I didn't want her to ask where I was working."
"Why not?"
"Long story. I won't bore you with it right now. Anyhow, would you like to go into the Visitor Centre? There's an excellent exhibition about the cliffs, and a café and gift shop." He laughed when her eyes lit up. "I'm guessing the gift shop comes top of your list."
She grinned as they headed down the sloping path. "You don't mind, do you? I'm a sucker for gift shops."
"Of course I don't mind."
The Centre, as he expected, was thronged with tourists, and he surveyed the queue snaking out of the café. "How about I join this queue and get us some drinks, while you fight your way around the shop? What would you like?"
"A bottle of water, please."
"Okay. I'll meet you outside in about fifteen minutes."
The truth was he needed some time to himself to think everything through. Meeting Sinead again had been a shock, as well as a reminder of the risks of dating someone who was aware of his real identity. After he ended their relationship the previous year, she exacted her revenge by telling Michael McGuffin's girlfriend that the 'new barman' at Mick's Bar in Galway was an undercover cop. He'd been within days of getting enough evidence of the bar being used for drug dealing. Instead, the bar closed down, McGuffin disappeared, and Enya was furious.
No distractions this time
, she'd said, and he didn't need her to explain what she meant. He recalled his response:
I'm Ryan Brady for the duration of this investigation
.
Perhaps that was how it should stay. Not that he had any intention of ending his relationship with Kara, but what if she let something slip to her friend Liz, who in turn might say something to Conor?
He took a long gulp from his bottle of water. Meeting Sinead had acted as a sharp warning. Much as he wished he could tell Kara the truth, he had to remain as taxi driver Ryan Brady, until this investigation was wrapped up.
* * * * *
Twenty-five minutes later, Kara exited the Centre and spotted Ryan sitting on the low stone wall a few yards away.
"I'm sorry I've been so long."
"Don't worry about it, but I think your water may not be as cold as when I bought it, even though I kept it in the shade."
She perched next to him on the wall, and took a long drink from the plastic bottle. "The shop was so crowded, and I had to wait ages in the line at the cash desk, and another five minutes in the line for the restroom."
He glanced at the paper carrier bag on the wall next to her. "And have you bought everything in the shop?"
She laughed. "I was so tempted, but no, I restrained myself. A DVD of the cliffs, a book about the Great Famine, some perfume, a box of Irish whiskey fudge, a fridge magnet – oh, and a little body suit for Olivia Maeve." She dived into the bag and pulled out the garment. "Isn't this cute? A baby leprechaun on the front. It's too big for her now, but she'll soon grow into it."
"Okay, are you ready for the next stop on my tour?"
Kara raised her eyebrows. "Why the rush? It's lovely sitting out here in the sunshine."
"I've just spotted Sinead and her friend coming down the path, and I don't want to meet up with her again."
As they walked toward the car park, Kara glanced at the row of half a dozen small retail outlets. Most seemed to be craft shops, with clothing, jewellery, art, and locally made souvenirs. She would have liked to browse, but Ryan was obviously keen to leave. Meeting his ex-girlfriend again had clearly rattled him, but it was none of her business why or how they broke up.
As he drove north from the cliffs, and took the coast road, the Burren scenery diverted her mind from any thoughts of Ryan's ex.
"It's a limestone pavement, which was broken up by glaciation," he explained. "That's why there are deep crevices in the stone. It's quite a unique area."
"It's surreal, almost how you imagine a lunar landscape."
The bare stony terrain surrounded them on both sides, rising in low grey hillocks on their right, and extending in a mass of loose rocks to the shore on their left. Kara lost count of how many times she said,
This is awesome,
as Ryan drove up to Black Head, a headland from which they had a spectacular view of Galway Bay and the Connemara hills.
"This has been a fantastic day," she said, when they got back into the car after a short stop at Black Head. "We've seen so many wonderful places, and I've loved every minute."
"Good, but now we have to retrace our route all the way back to Clifden. If there was a bridge across the bay, we'd be there in half the time, but we'll stop somewhere for a meal. All the fresh air has made me hungry."
They broke their journey at a pub in Oughterard, and it was after eight o'clock when they arrived back at Mist Na Mara.
"Would you like to come in?" she asked. "I bet everyone's sitting on the terrace enjoying the evening sunshine and drinking gallons of wine. Oh, but you can't drink when you're driving, can you?"
"I can leave my car here and walk back to Clifden, but if you want the truth, I'd stay here all night with you if I could."
The heat rose to Kara's cheeks. "I'd love that, but it's kind of difficult here."
He leant sideways to kiss her. "I understand. Don't worry about it."
Their kiss lengthened until he broke away and blew out his breath. "I'm thinking we should join your friends on the terrace."
As she predicted, several of the staff were relaxing on the wide wood-decked terrace that ran along the western side of the house, and Guy poured drinks for them both.
She slid her hand to grasp Ryan's at the side of their wicker chairs as the conversation drifted from the new baby to the arrival earlier of the baby's great-grandmother.
"Maeve Connor is an old friend of ours," Guy explained. "We met her several years ago when we were trying to find out more about this house. She bought the portrait of the original owner, and donated it to us, so we could hang it in the Victorian bedroom where we originally found it."
Kara turned to Ryan. "Have you ever seen the bedroom?"
"No, I've never been in the house."
She looked back at Guy. "Okay if I take Ryan up?"
"Of course. You know where the key is?"
"In your office, yes. We won't be long."
She led the way from the terrace through the conservatory and dining room to the oak panelled hallway, and down the corridor to Guy's office.
"There's an amazing story about the Victorian bedroom," she told him, after she picked up a large brass key from the keyboard on the wall. "Evidently it was locked when the family left the house in 1939, and Guy and Jenna were the first people to see it after that. It was thick with dust and cobwebs, of course, but they had it professionally restored to look like it was in the 1890s when the house was built. It's beautiful now."
"They've obviously invested a lot of money in this house," Ryan commented as he stopped to look at the paintings of local scenes on the wall of the wide curved staircase.
"They received a big inheritance as well as the house. I don't know all the details but—" She broke off as they reached the landing at the top of the stairs from where they could hear the plaintive cries of a new-born baby. "Sounds like Olivia Maeve is keeping Amy and Niall busy. Oh, hello," she added with a smile, as a slim white-haired lady approached the landing from the corridor on their right. "You must be Amy's grandmother."
The older woman nodded. "Indeed I am, and what a sweet wee thing her little babe is." She chuckled. "I still can't believe I'm a great-grandmother now. And I'm so thrilled they've named her after me. I'm Maeve Connor, and you are—?"
"Kara Stewart. I'm Guy's cousin."
"From America, is it?" Maeve peered at her. "But you remind me of someone I worked with many years ago. In fact, you're the image of her. Ach, I'm trying to remember her name. Margaret something, I forget her surname but we worked together at the Children's Hospital in Crumlin in the sixties."
Kara shot a quick glance at Ryan as her heart began to race. Sister Gabriel had said one of the girls called Margaret Kelly was a nurse. This was a chance in a million, but she had to ask the question. "It – it wasn't Margaret Kelly, was it?"
Maeve's blue eyes lit up. "It was, it was! Bless you! But how could you know that?"
The breath left Kara's lungs and she had to draw in a huge gulp of air. "Mrs. Connor, please may I ask you what you remember about Margaret Kelly?"
Chapter 18
The Victorian bedroom was forgotten as Ryan accompanied Kara and Maeve downstairs. Instead of joining the others on the terrace, Kara took them into a large lounge at the front of the house. In different circumstances, he would have enjoyed the opportunity to inspect the beautiful room with its period furniture and marble fireplace, but Kara was his priority right now. He slipped his arm around her as they sat on the couch while Maeve perched on the armchair facing them.
"I'm very curious," Maeve said. "Why are you interested in Margaret Kelly?"
He sensed Kara's hesitation before she replied, "I think someone with that name might be my grandmother."
Maeve's eyes narrowed. "Might be? I don't understand."
"My mother was adopted, Mrs. Connor. She was one of the hundreds of illegitimate Irish babies who were sent to America in the fifties and sixties."
"Ah, I see. Yes, I've heard about those babies, of course, and I know many of them have tried to trace their birth parents, often unsuccessfully."
"Did Margaret ever tell you she had a baby, Mrs. Connor?" Kara asked.
"No, no, most girls wouldn't admit to that at the time. It was all kept very hush-hush, because having a baby out of wedlock was an even worse sin than robbing a bank. Margaret was lucky not to be sent to one of those dreadful Magdalene laundries after her baby was born. If it's the same person, o' course, because it's very common name here in Ireland."
"Yes, that's the big problem," Kara said. "Ryan's friend, who's done some research for me, found dozens of Margaret Kelly births and marriages. It's impossible to trace the right one unless we can find something more about her. We don't even know where she came from, or if she married."
"Well, I left the hospital when I married in 1964, and Margaret was still working there at the time. We didn't keep in touch, so I'm not sure how long she stayed after that."
Ryan was aware of the dispirited sag of Kara's shoulders, but he decided to press Maeve for more information. "You don't know where she is now, Mrs. Connor?"
"I'm afraid I don't. And do call me Maeve. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"My fault," Kara said. "I should have introduced you. This is Ryan Brady."
"That's a good Irish name. Are you looking for your birth parents or grandparents, too?"
He smiled. "No, I'm fortunate in knowing both sets of grandparents."
"And they're all still alive, are they?"
"Indeed they are. My dad's parents live at Portumna, and my mother's are near Loughrea. I've been helping Kara with her search, but we keep hitting brick walls."
Maeve chuckled. "You should ask Guy and Jenna about that. They had similar problems when searching for their ancestry. But, going back to Margaret, I can't tell you much, as she wasn't one of my close friends, even though we worked at the same hospital. But Kara does bear a remarkable resemblance to Margaret in her twenties."
"And everyone says I'm like my mother, and we know someone called Margaret Kelly had a baby girl at Ballykane Mother and Baby Home in 1959, which was the year my mom was born."
"1959, is it? Now let me think. I started my training at the Children's Hospital that same month, when I was sixteen. Oh, I thought it was so exciting being in Dublin after living in Clifden all my life, and going shopping in the big stores, and to the theatre sometimes, too. But I'm digressing. I think I must have been there for nearly a year by the time Margaret came. She was older than us, you see, and I think she was already part way through her training."
"Sister Gabriel told me Margaret was a nurse," Kara said. "It seems she worked in the nursery at Ballykane until her baby was adopted and then she was probably transferred to a hospital or orphanage."
Maeve thought for a few moments. "I'm still in contact with a couple of friends I worked with, so I'll see if they remember Margaret."
"Thank you so much. Anything you can find out would help, Maeve."
"I'll do my best, but now, if you'll excuse me, I'll pop upstairs again for another peep at my wee great-granddaughter before I go to bed."
Ryan stood and held the door for her, and then turned back to Kara. "Fingers crossed that one of her friends will remember something."
She gave him a forlorn smile. "Unless they know where she is now, we won't be able to find her."
He returned to the couch, sat beside her, and gave her a hug. "If someone knows who she married – if she married, of course – then Dec might be able to trace her, as he did with Theresa."
"I'd love to meet your friend Declan sometime, to thank him for all the research he's done for me."
"For sure. Next time we're in Galway, I'll call him." Introducing Kara to one of his
Garda
colleagues was the last thing he wanted to do at present, and he diverted the conversation away from Declan. "Now, are ye going to show me this Victorian bedroom?"
"Yes, of course."
Outside the bedroom, she indicated the wall display of photographs of the room as it was when Guy and Jenna first entered it, over seventy years from when the house was abandoned. He studied the pictures of all the furniture covered in thick dust, cobwebs hanging from a tarnished brass chandelier, and faded, threadbare drapes.
"Looks like something out of a Gothic movie. Are you sure there isn't a ghost in here?"
Kara laughed. "If there is, it's a friendly ghost, or rather two ghosts of the original owners of the house. Okay, ready to see what it's like now?"
She clicked a light switch on the wall, turned the brass key in the lock, and opened the door.
"
Jaysus
!" he breathed as he went into the room. "This is amazin'."
The room had been restored to its former glory, with green damask walls, gold drapes, a huge marble fireplace, and a magnificent four poster bed. Through the translucent voile drapes at the large bay window, he had a view past the cottage and the Leary farm to the beach and sea, and the line of hills in the distance.
"Awesome, isn't it?" Kara said. "I love this room, and if you come around here—" She caught hold of his hand, led him around the bed, and pointed to the large portrait on the wall of a woman reclining on a chaise longue. "She's the original owner of the house, painted by her lover. Sometimes, when we bring the visiting groups in, one of us poses on the chaise longue, while either Karl or Richard acts the part of the artist who painted the portrait. It always grabs their imagination, the two lovers in the past."
Ryan eyed the four poster bed. "At the moment, I'd rather think about the present."
He turned her to face him, cupped his hands around her face, and kissed her. When her warm lips parted for him, a flame raced through his blood. As their kiss deepened, he edged her back toward the bed, but she pulled away from him.
"No, we can't. Not here."
"Why not?"
"Because—" She giggled. "For one thing, how would I ever manage to take part in another Living History play here if we – if all I can think about is – oh, you know what I mean. Besides, I thought you wanted to take me to a posh hotel in Dublin?"
He pressed his hand on the bed. "You're right, and this mattress is as hard as a stone slab anyway." He leant forward to kiss her again. "When can we go to Dublin?"
"Next weekend?"
His eyebrows shot up. "Is that right? You're not working?"
"No, I checked with Charley this evening while you were talking to Guy. There's a Mixed Media Landscape workshop all day Saturday, so I won't be needed, and Charley said they can manage without me on Sunday."
"So will I book a hotel for Friday and Saturday nights?"
She gave him a seductive smile under her lashes that caused his chest to constrict. "Yes, please."
He hugged her to him and ignored the echo of Enya's voice about no distractions. "I shall count the days – no, the hours, until next Friday evening,
a ghrá
."
"
A ghrá
? What does that mean?"
"My love, or, if you prefer,
a ghrá mo chroí
, which means
love of my heart
."
She smiled and reached up to kiss his cheek. "I like both of those."
* * * * * *
Maeve was waiting in the hallway the next morning after Kara finished the drama session in the lounge with a tour group from Galway.
"Kara, do you have a minute to spare?"
"Yes, of course." She glanced around at the people who were drifting into the hallway, and took Maeve into the small parlour.
"I called a couple of my friends this morning," Maeve said, "and I asked them about Margaret Kelly."
Kara held her breath. "Did they remember anything about her?"
"Well, I'll start by saying no one knows where she is now, but one of them said she had a Galway accent, which I'd forgotten."
Her heart sank at Maeve's first comment, but any information was better than none. "Does that mean she came from County Galway or the city?"
"Now I'm not sure about that. Growing up in Clifden, I used to be able to hear differences in accents and words, even from places only ten or fifteen miles apart, but I think those differences have lessened now people travel around more. Anyhow, it seems Margaret came from somewhere here in the west of Ireland."
"That's a start," Kara said with a smile, "because we had no idea where she might have been born."
"And, o' course, it would explain why she ended up in the Ballykane home instead of one of the Dublin homes."
"You mean the girls had a choice of which home they went to?"
"No, no, it was usually the family who took the girl to the home, or even the parish priest. Anyhow, my friend Annie thinks Margaret started her training at another hospital, and transferred to Our Lady's in 1960."
"Does she know how long she was there?"
"Annie says Margaret left when she got married. She thinks it might have been in '64 or '65, but she couldn't remember the husband's name. It was a long time ago, o' course, but she said she'll ask another friend she's still in contact with from that time."
"I really appreciate your help, Maeve."
"I'm sorry I've not been able to find out more for you, but I wish you success with your search. I'm sure your mother will be so thrilled if you manage to trace her birth mother."
Kara gave her a weak smile. "I'm less sure about that. My mom's not interested."
Maeve raised her eyebrows. "Is that right? She thinks her mother abandoned her, does she? I've heard the nuns often told the adoptive parents the child was willingly given away. Maybe that's what your mother was told."
* * * * *
Ryan's phone buzzed while he crouched in the bushes on Sunday evening, waiting to see if someone would turn up at the cottage to collect whatever Paddy would take to Roscommon the next morning. Not that there seemed to be anything to collect. He'd emptied every box earlier, as Enya instructed, and found nothing.
Seeing Kara's name on the screen, he risked clicking his phone to answer. He could always disconnect if anyone arrived.
"Hi, how are ye?"
"I'm okay, but Maeve's not been able to find out much more about Margaret Kelly. It's possible she came from somewhere in or near Galway, and she got married in 1964 or '65, but the friends Maeve called can't remember anything else."
"Another brick wall, is it? I wonder if the hospital records would tell us anything more?"
"Do you think they still exist?"
"I'll ask Declan. Meantime, I've booked us a room at the Sheldon for two nights."
Her voice softened. "I'm looking forward to that so much"
His gut tightened. "Me, too."
"Where are you now?"
"Oh, just hanging around waiting." At least that wasn't a lie. "The busy time starts when people leave the pubs and want a taxi back to their hotels."
"When do you finish tonight?"
"Midnight, unless I get a fare out to Skelleen or Roundstone at the last minute."
Kara laughed. "I bet you're keeping everything crossed that no one wants a taxi at five minutes to midnight."
"I am, because I have to be up early in the morning."
"You mean they make you work an early shift the day after doing the late shift?"
Too late he realised he'd said the wrong thing. "No, I'm not working until two o'clock tomorrow, but I have a couple of other jobs to do before that."
He couldn't tell her about the rental car he'd parked earlier in the street near the taxi office, ready to follow Tom Wild to Roscommon again. Always assuming Paddy was doing his regular trip there, of course.
The sound of a car engine alerted him to someone coming down the lane from the main road.
"Gotta go," he said quickly. "I'll call you tomorrow."
Seconds after he clicked off his phone, the car turned into the Mist Na Mara car park, and he heaved a sigh. The waiting was the hardest part of this job, and it occurred to him more than once that a window seat in the Victorian bedroom would be far more comfortable. From that vantage point, he would have a clear view of anyone approaching or leaving the cottage, but it was impossible, of course.