Chapter 1 – The night that set the path

Winter 1930

Shelagh awoke with a start as she heard her mother calling out to her in the middle of the night.

"SHELAGH!" she heard again in her mother's thick Scottish accent that was dripping with fear.

She ran to her mother straight away and without delay. She wasn't due for another two months, but it was obvious to even little six-year-old Shelagh that something wasn't right.

"My darling girl," Mrs. Mannion said as she caresses Shelagh's cheek and unsuccessfully tried to hide her fear of what was happening. "I need you to be a dear and help mummy. Your lit'l brother or sister is on 'is way in a hurry. Gotta get some hot water and towels straight away."

"Yes, mum. I'm here to help, but where's da?" little Shelagh asked, trying frightfully to hide her fear as well.

"He's at the pub again. We'll fetch 'im when it's all done. No worries my dear. Now hurry along with that water."

Shelagh was used to her father being away at the pub. He wasn't always the kindest and most endearing father or husband, but he always kept their needs met. Shelagh never worried of being hungry or having a place to sleep, but she longed for the love that was missing in her father-daughter relationship.

Shelagh was torn from her own thoughts as she heard her mother scream out the most terrifying sounds with each new contraction. She began to heat the kettle and quickly decided she needed help. As fast as her little legs would carry her through the snow, she ran to the nearest neighbour. She had been in such a hurry to fetch help, she had left with only a coat over her thin night dress and no shoes. Her mother would have been furious, but Shelagh had more important things to worry with right now.

Mrs. Wilson was a florist, not a nurse, but Shelagh hoped she could help in some way. Unfortunately, there wasn't a phone around for miles.

"What's the matter, Shelagh? Where are you shoes? Are you okay?" Mrs. Wilson asked with the utmost concern.

"Mum's havin 'er baby. I got the kettle goin', but I don't know what to do." Shelagh cried as she nearly pulled Mrs. Wilson down the tiny dirt road.

Shelagh was the best helper and nurse she could possibly be for such a scared little girl. She obliged every request of Mrs. Wilson and her mother and was as quick about it as she could be. She heard her mother let out the scariest of screams and cries she'd ever heard, until, in the matter of a moment, it all went silent. This is when she saw Mrs. Wilson become frantic in the attempt at getting Mrs. Mannion to come around, but her attempts were in vein.

Despite all of Shelagh's best efforts of assisting and getting help, mother and baby passed during birth. With no trained nurses, midwives, or doctors around, there was nothing else that Shelagh or Mrs. Wilson could have done for her.

Mrs. Wilson took Shelagh back to her home and sent Mr. Wilson down the pub to fetch Mr. Mannion and phone for the hospital and coroner.

Summer 1941

That night replayed in Shelagh's head continuously, leaving her with the guilt of not being able to do more for her mother or baby brother. She had plenty of time to dwell on that with her father spending more time in the town pub than anywhere else. She learned quickly how to stay out of her father's way when he came home late in the evenings after having far too many spirits at the pub. While she had hoped that her mother's passing might make him realise how precious life was and become a more doting father, instead he mostly shot verbal assaults about how she was to blame for her mother's death and how she was of no use to him, but on occasion, he'd turn physical.

One warm summer night, her father came home in a particularly foul mood. He hollered and screamed for Shelagh as she hid in the far corner of her bedroom, but once he found her, he made sure she felt every bit of anger he held deep within him. When he had finally had enough and passed out from the overabundance of liquor he had consumed that evening, she began to clean herself up and bandage her wounds as best she could before she gathered her things knowing that this was not the life she could forever lead. There had to be more out there for her, and she was determined to find it.

With the utmost caution, Shelagh snuck out the door with her tiny case filled with only the basic of belongings – nothing more than a few days' worth of clothing, but she was never one to hold much value in material things. She then began her journey to her new life in Aberdeen. She had very little money to speak of, but thankfully, over the years Mrs. Wilson had asked Shelagh to help at her shop regularly to help out with the flowers and earn a small wage. This gave her an opportunity to learn a trade and make enough money to move to the city.

At the tender age of 17, Shelagh Mannion was now leaving the only place she had ever known to start a new life in the city, and had no plans of ever looking back.