Page 184 of The Missing Sister
‘I’ll get Katie’s number for you.’ John stood up and went to the telephone that sat on a chest of drawers. He pulled out a black leather-bound book from one of the drawers, which I recognised immediately.
‘You still have the same address book that Mammy and Daddy used?!’
‘We do, so, yes. We hardly needed it in those days; we knew where everyone lived, but now ’tis useful for the mobile phone numbers. There’s Katie’s.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll be putting your number in the book now, just in case you’re thinking of disappearing for another thirty-seven years.’ He winked at me.
I recited my number and he wrote it down. Then he gave me the landline here so I could do the same.
‘I can’t be doing with mobiles even though I have one,’ said John. ‘It means that if I’m out in the meadow on a sunny day having a snooze, Herself can call me,’ he sighed. ‘Now then’ – John raised his voice so everyone could hear – ‘I’ve got to be off back to my tractor, though I’ll be seeing you again soon, I hope.’
‘I was just saying to the kids that we should have a family get-together, so they can meet all their aunties, uncles and cousins,’ said Sinéad.
‘Apparently we have about twenty in all, Mum! But some of them are in Canada,’ said Mary-Kate.
‘Don’t you worry, there’s enough of them to be getting on with right here,’ Sinéad smiled. ‘How about this Sunday coming?’
‘Can we, Mum?’ asked Mary-Kate.
‘I’m sure we can, and it’s very kind of you to offer, Sinéad. Right, kids, let’s be off,’ I said. ‘Thank you for lunch and being so hospitable.’
‘Ah, ’twas nothing. I just can’t wait to tell all my sisters-in-law that I met you first!’ she giggled.
All three of us had a big hug from her, then climbed into the car and followed John’s tractor down to the lane. I felt so proud of my children, especially Mary-Kate, who ironically, although she didn’t know it yet, shared the same circumstances as me: we both knew that those we’d just visited were not our blood family. Yet her obvious excitement at having ‘cousins’ meant she hadn’t even thought about it.
Maybe it was simply because she’d spent twenty-two years being loved by her parents, as I had been loved by mine.
Would I tell John and the rest of my siblings that I had been ‘dropped in’ as a replacement for a dead baby?
No, I thought, that didn’t matter. Lovedid.
‘Where to now, Mum?’ asked Mary-Kate.
‘Back to the hotel, I think.’
‘Well, as it’s such great weather, I wouldn’t mind seeing whether that surf school we spotted on the beach hires out their equipment,’ said Jack. ‘It’s ages since I last surfed. Join me?’ he asked Mary-Kate.
‘If Mum doesn’t need us, then yeah, I’d love to.’
‘I’ll be fine, you two go and enjoy yourselves. The sea’s always freezing, mind you,’ I warned them with a smile.
Back at the hotel, the kids walked off to enquire about hiring surfboards, and I went back to my room and immediately dialled Katie’s number. There was a voicemail telling me to leave a message, but I had absolutely no idea what to say. I dialled the number for Cross Farm and Sinéad answered.
‘Hi there, it’s Merry here. Katie’s not answering her mobile, so maybe I’ll just turn up at her door. Where exactly does she live?’
‘In Timoleague. Do you remember where the GAA pitch is?’
‘I do.’
‘Well, ’tis a grand big house on the other side of the lane, just beyond the pitch. You’ll see it because it’s painted bright orange. Wouldn’t be the colour I’d choose, mind, but at least you can’t miss it,’ chuckled Sinéad.
Leaving a message at reception for Jack and Mary-Kate, I got back into my car and headed for Timoleague. Like Clonakilty, the village had expanded upwards and sideways, but the main street remained more or less as I remembered it. As I drove, I looked across the magnificent Courtmacsherry Bay. Passing the GAA pitch, where I could see boys practising Gaelic football, bringing back vivid memories of watching my brothers playing in the field with Daddy, I saw the big house standing up on a slope just beyond it and agreed with Sinéad that the bright tangerine colour was not one I would have picked either. ‘Look at me,’ the house was saying. It was obvious Katie had done very well for herself.
I headed up the drive, admiring the pristine gardens and the carefully tended flower beds. There was a Range Rover parked outside which was so shiny, the sun glinted off it and half blinded me. Bringing the car to a halt, I turned off the engine and gathered my nerve to get out and knock on the front door.
It was opened by a slim, greying but still handsome man dressed in a pink shirt and chinos.
