Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2006. - Licia
A Magdelene girl.
She couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that great-great Great Aunt Fiona had been a Magdelene girl, forced to work at a laundry- Ulster Magdelene Asylum, if the information she had found was correct- before and after her child was born.
That's why there's no record of Fiona in the family, from aught-three until aught-five. The next record Kathleen had been able to find had been a marriage certificate for Fiona and Eamon Phillips, the young newspaper man Fiona had fallen pregnant by. But how, exactly, had she managed to escape? A girl did not simply return home from a Magdelene laundry, not unless her family came and got her or they released her- which, more often than not, never happened, unless the laundry closed, and even then, it was shaky ground. So how had Fiona gotten out?
From everything Kathleen knew of Grandfather James, the man was a staunch, strict man who believed deeply in the Catholic Church, as much as his family did; he was not the type of man who would allow his daughter to return home so quickly, especially after committing such a sin as sex before marriage and bearing a child out of wedlock. Unless...
She sighed, setting the can of red paint on the tarp covered step and turning to the door. Having wrapped the knocker in tape, she grabbed the brush and set to work on giving the door a fresh coat. Memories of doing this with her sisters came flooding back, the humid June days when they would spend more time getting the paint all over each other than the door, until Da or Zippi had to come out and tell then to quit fooling around and finish. It had become tradition, from the moment Timothy Michael first painted the door red, for it to be given a fresh coat every summer- a tradition that had vanished when she and John had fled to America, taking the children with them- and one that was sorely needed to be picked up again. And anything that would keep her mind from the wake about to happen in three days time, when her husband would be laid in-state in the living room of this very house...
With each steady stroke of the brush, her mind returned to Fiona, to the information she'd uncovered so far, and how it fit into the family tree. If Fiona had been sent away in late aught-two, then she'd most likely given birth sometime in aught-three, and then spent the next two years at the Asylum, until someone had come and gotten her. But there was no record of a babe born to Fiona O'Shea before Evelyn in aught-six; that was not uncommon, however. It was now being discovered that babes born to Magdelene girls either died not long after birth, or were given away, and birth certificates forged-
"'twould no' le' me come 'ome."
She turned at the voice, startled to find a young girl, no older than fifteen, standing at the bottom of the steps, arms around a growing middle. She wore a dark, long-sleeved dress with a white pinafore over it, her long red hair pulled back and a white cap atop her head, tears sliding down her cheeks. The sight startled Kathleen so much, she had to catch the paintbrush before it fell from her grasp. "F... Fi... Fiona?"
The girl swallowed, meeting her gaze. "Ye belong t' me broth'r, don' ye? An' Zippi? 'tis Kathleen, aye?"
"I... I'm no'..." But after a moment, she stopped, nodding slowly. It was easier than trying to explain the complicated twists of the family tree. Slowly, she knelt down, setting the brush atop the paint can, before taking a seat on the second step. She watched as Fiona- for that's clearly who this was, albeit not the young woman who had helped Zippi through such a difficult birth, but the young girl who yet knew nothing of what fate held in store for her beloved brother- carefully took a seat on the step beside her. She gently caressed her growing belly- about five, maybe six months along, from what Kathleen could figure, though she looked a little bigger than a first-time mother should- sniffling before meeting Kathleen's gaze. "'e sen' ye away, di'n't 'e? Gran'fath'r James, b'cause ye go' pregnant? Sen' ye up t' one o' th' laundries in-"
"Belfas'." The girl replied softly. "Begged Da t' le' me marry Eamon, I di'. I love Eamon, an' 'e loves me. Wan's t' marry me, 'e does. Bu' Da sai' no. Sai'... sai' tha'..." She struggled to control her sobs, gaze moving to the swell growing beneath her hands. "tha' I've brough' shame t' th' fam'ly. Tha'... 'twill nev'r be able t' r'turn until I pay f'r me sins..." She shook her head. "'twasn't sin I c'mmitted. twasn't sin; 'twas love. Love." She broke down then, wrapping her arms around her middle and lowering her head. Kathleen sat silent, unsure of what to say, letting Fiona's heart-wrenching confession wash over her. She knew what it was like, the fear of facing her parents after having become pregnant out of wedlock.
Ye've fac'd it yerself, when ye go' pregnant wit' Timmy. Except Zippi stepp'd in b'fore Ma an' Da coul' do anythin'. An' in tha' way, ye were lucky. Ye avoid'd Fiona's fate.
"'ow long?" Slowly the girl lifted her head, tears still sliding down her cheeks. "At the Asylum? 'ow long were ye there? An' 'ow did ye ge' ou'?"
Fiona swallowed. "Three years." She shook her head. "Bu' they took 'em from me righ' aft'r birth." It was clear she was ignoring the last question. Slowly, she turned her gaze back to her belly, began stroking it absentmindedly in the way all expectant mothers tended to do.
"It. Took it, ye mean." The girl turned to Kathleen. "Th' babe."
A shake of the head. "'twas more tha' one."
Kathleen's eyes widened in shock. "Twins?" Fiona nodded.
"Stole me babes from me... gave 'em away..." She choked on a sob, reaching up to swipe at her nose, and Kathleen wished desperately that Fiona wasn't a ghost of times past, that she could gather the girl in her arms and ease some of her pain, but she knew that if she tried, she would only succeed in going through her. So she merely sat beside the teenager, listening. "'ad 'nough time t' name 'em, I did." She looked up at Kathleen.
"Wha' are their names?" Kathleen whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. Fiona swallowed, glancing down at her belly as she continued to rub it, before turning her gaze back to the living O'Shea matriarch. Her voice clear and calm for the first time since appearing before Kathleen, she replied,
"Aidan Liam an' Margaret Sian."