Page 174 of The Missing Sister
‘Oh Ambrose, no,’ I said, my eyes filling with tears. ‘What did you do?’
‘Well, both you and I know what a devoted man of God Father O’Brien was. If there had been any words whispered in the bishop’s ear – words that she was sure to embellish – his priestly journey would have been halted then and there. It would have destroyed him; not just his career path, but spiritually too. So, when I arrived back in Dublin, I wrote to James telling him that, due to my new appointment as head of the Classics department, the workload would prevent me from coming down regularly to see him.’
‘Surely Father O’Brien must have contacted you after you did?’
‘Oh, he did, and I evaded and evaded, with excuse after excuse as to why I couldn’t spare the time. He even came up to Dublin to see me, so I invented a lady friend.’ Ambrose chuckled sadly. ‘Eventually, he took the hint and I heard from him no more. Of course, now that I’m retired, I have far too much time to look back on things I’d rather not remember.’
I watched as Ambrose took his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his eyes.
‘You loved him, didn’t you?’ I whispered.
‘I did, Mary, and you’re the only person in my entire life to whom I’ve admitted that. Of course, I was aware from the start that he could never love me, not in the way I wished at least. For me, it was the love that dare not speak its name, and for James, the true embodiment of my precious Plato’s platonic love. Still, just seeing him regularly was a gift. I treasured our friendship, as you will remember.’
‘Yes. He was such a very good man and even I could see how much he cared for you. If only—’
‘Sadly life is filled with “if only”s, my dear, but there’s never a day that goes by when I don’t miss him.’
‘I suppose you have no idea where Father O’Brien is? Or even if he’s alive?’
‘No. Rather like you, I felt that cutting off contact was the best thing for us. And if heiswith his beloved God now, then I am happy for him. Well,’ Ambrose sighed, ‘there we have it.’
‘I’m so sorry for asking you. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset you.’
‘Goodness, no; as a matter of fact, it’s rather a relief to speak it all out loud to someone who knew him. And his goodness.’
‘Ambrose, I’ve just discovered that if it hadn’t been for the kindness of you and Father O’Brien, I’d have ended up in an orphanage. And we all know now how terrible most of them were.’
‘Luckily, James knew that already, having seen one for himself in Dublin.’
‘At least Mrs Cavanagh must be a few feet underground by now. Frankly, I hope she rots in hell, and I don’t think I’ve ever said that about another human being,’ I added staunchly.
‘Anyway, we’ve veered off track, Mary. Do continue with what you were telling me.’
‘Well, only recently I read the diaryhegave me as a parting gift when I left for boarding school. He wanted me to understand why I must hate the British too and continue the fight for a united Ireland. He told me it was written by his grandmother, Nuala. She’d given it to him apparently, so he’d never forget. Of course, I never read it back then, but given my current odyssey into my past, I decided I should. So I did, a few days ago.’
‘And?’
‘Well, it certainly didn’t make easy reading, but it’s obvious wherehegot his republican leanings.’
‘You should hold on to that diary, Mary. There are so very few documented first-hand sources about the fight for Irish independence. Everyone was far too frightened of being caught.’
‘You can read it if you’d like. There were names and places mentioned in it that make me think there was a family connection between us. For example, Nuala talks about her home being Cross Farm, and her brother being Fergus. Well, our family lived at Cross Farm and I know my Daddy inherited it from our great-uncle Fergus.’
‘I see. So you’re thinking thathemay have been a relation?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, that’s hardly surprising – everyone was related to everyone down in West Cork.’
‘I know, and I’m wondering if he knew too. He was never allowed up to our farm and I’m thinking that maybe there had been a falling-out long ago. And that’s why he behaved so oddly with me when I was a child. He seemed to love me and hate me in equal measure.’
‘Maybe,’ Ambrose agreed. ‘There’s only one way to find out and that is to go back to where it all began.’
‘That’s what I came to ask you: should I travel back to West Cork?’
‘On balance, I think you should, yes. You have your son and daughter to protect you, plus a family there, who I’m sure will be delighted to welcome you back into the fold.’
‘Oh Ambrose, I don’t know. What if heisthere? It would be a lot easier just to get on a plane to New Zealand and forget all about it.’
