Patrick Turner glanced at his companion.
John Bates, traveling alongside him in the car, was a big, elegant, and serious man. Between his legs he carried a cane, although he was not an old man.
Patrick turned his attention back to the street to his house, still thinking about the unknown man who did not say a word. He did not really know what to say to him either.
"Doctor…" John started to speak, but immediately seemed to change his mind and shook his head.
"Yes?"
Patrick looked back at him, Bates took a deep breath, and then exhaled shakily.
"I just need to know if my wife is okay. But I know what you will answer, all the doctors say the same thing."
Patrick frowned, not used to a man's contempt for his profession. At least not from men like John Bates.
But he understood what Bates was referring to. Many colleagues tended to minimize and give little explanation about pregnancy and miscarriages, and he was almost certain that both Anna and Bates had seen too many doctors with those characteristics. The distrust and resentment were duly justified, so he inspired and tried to be clear and concise.
"His wife is fine, I assure you," he said firmly. He saw Bates starting to interrupt him, but he continued, "She's fine now. She will recover and her life will be normal, until something like this happens again. Obviously there is something wrong, I don't know what it is because I didn't make more complex observations. But if it is what I suspect, it can be solved quickly, with a small intervention so that she doesn't lose a next pregnancy."
"I know that. We did that when she was pregnant with Johnny, and it was what allowed her to come to term. With the others it was impossible. As soon as we knew it, they told us that it was too early, that we had to wait a little longer, and when we waited...everything ended. This time she didn't even know."
"Then if she wants to keep the next one, she must remain in absolute rest and wait for the stipulated date to do the intervention. We can take care of her if she needs it, and I personally promise to watch out for any symptoms to avoid another miscarriage."
"No," Bates tightened his eyelids, "We don't want any more children. That's it. What I want is for her not to go through this. What is the solution? Live apart?"
"There is another intervention, so that she doesn't get pregnant. But I'm fighting against the legislation, it is only done in mothers who already have too many children."
Bates gripped the handle of his cane, shaking his head.
"So if the pills his wife gave her fail, and if all our care fails too, Anna will be exposed to this once again. She suffers so much and it is unbearable for me. It's getting worse and worse…"
Suddenly, John Bates was no longer a man offended by medicine, and was just a sore man with a cracking voice trying desperately to hide the tears from another man's gaze.
"You can cry, Mr. Bates. I cried a lot for my wife, and we also had many problems related to children. I can understand it," Patrick held out his handkerchief, still looking straight ahead.
"No thanks, I have one," Bates wiped his face with one hand, then searched his pockets until he found a handkerchief. He sighed and cleared his throat, staring out the window into the wet sunset, "I can't bear to see her suffer. Not with this, not with anything."
Patrick narrowed his eyes, staring down the street. He knew exactly what Bates was talking about, and it was not about Anna's miscarriages, but about other losses, related to Shelagh. He also could not bear to see Shelagh suffer and since Anna had appeared, he had only seen pain in her wife's eyes.
"I'm so sorry about what happened," he just said, clenching his fingers on the steering wheel.
Bates did not respond, sighed again and turned from looking out the window to look directly at him.
"And I'm sorry too. All of this...They... I mean, his wife and Anna... I don't know. I don't know what to say or think."
"Me neither," Patrick admitted, and Bates smiled a little.
"That is their business, so we must not interfere. Although I would like both of them to come to a solution."
"Me too. But as you well said, we must not interfere. Just accompany them."
John smiled again, looking out the window.
"Yes, I believe that too. Is this your house?"
"Yes," Patrick stated, stopping the car in front of the house. From there he could hear the screams of the children who were still playing in the garden.
John Bates opened the car door, then lowered his cane and one of his legs. When he got out of the car, he complained loudly.
"This damn leg," he muttered under his breath.
"Do you need help?" Patrick asked, watching the man limp.
"No, I'm used to it. I have days when it hurts a lot, and days when I don't even realize it. You know, war wound," the man smirked, dismissing it.
Patrick trembled at the mention, tried to make a smile.
"Were you there too?" Bates asked, then he answered himself, "Oh, I don't think so, you're much younger than me."
"Don't believe that," Patrick smiled, and then walked him inside the house, "And yes, I was there. Who doesn't?"
Bates nodded thoughtfully, and Patrick feared that he was beginning to recall anecdotes or sympathetic memories of the war, as many men do. He always tried to run away from all that, burying bad times and images as deep as possible. But he was wrong, because before entering the house, Bates simply nodded again, without looking at him, and murmured:
"We already have too many problems to remember those of the past. Also, what can we say? Nothing good came out of there."
Patrick smiled gratefully.
"Dad!" Johnny exclaimed running into his arms.
John leaned over to the boy, hugged him and kissed his cheeks, forgetting how his tired body ached after all the stress of the day.
"How are you old sport?"
"They are Angela and May!" the boy introduced two little girls who looked at John shyly, but Johnny continued, "The baby's name is Teddy and he's Timothy and he has a collection of airplanes! And also many ships! Do you want to see it?"
John smiled as he was tugged at by his eager son and tried to calm his enthusiasm, until he saw, almost as shyly as the two little girls, whom he assumed was Shelagh. She did not need introductions, she was almost the same as the little girl in Joseph's photographs.
"And this is Auntie Shelagh!" Johnny exclaimed, oblivious to the impact he was making on his father.
His son seemed perfectly familiar with these people, and while that was good because he was spending a pleasant afternoon away from the chaos and pain of his parents, John would try to stop the boy from calling this woman again with that name. If Anna listened to Johnny saying that, she would be destroyed.
"Good evening, ma'am," he greeted her. She responded with barely a whisper, before Johnny turned to him, frowning.
"Dad, where's mom?"
"Dinner is ready!" Shelagh interrupted and John appreciated her intervention because his son was immediately distracted by the announcement.
"We're going home," John said looking at Patrick.
"No, stay. Please."
John looked everywhere, saw his son very happy showing that he was Anna Bates's polite child, setting the table and helping. John knew there would be nothing to eat at home, he barely knew how to heat water for tea, and Anna demanded that he not give his son greasy food, so fish and chips were out of the question.
Resigned, he nodded.
"It's fine. Thanks."
He saw Patrick Turner smile at him and felt more accompanied in his pain.
Luckily for him, during dinner his son was too busy chatting with everyone and eating politely to stop to ask questions, so John just nodded and smiled at him, commenting on just two words with the other Turners. When the three children finished eating and Shelagh took care of the baby, only John, Patrick, and Turner's oldest son remained at the table.
He thanked them for their hospitality and taking care of Johnny and Anna and talked a little about general things with the teenage boy, who seemed very intelligent. Then John decided it was best to leave, so he called Johnny and said goodbye to everyone.
"And mom?" Johnny asked as they rode a taxi back to their building.
"She will come back tomorrow, she has to spend the night in a small hospital because she got sick. But she is very well."
"And are Dr. Turner and Auntie Shelagh taking care of her?"
"Yes. Johnny, don't call her "auntie" she's not your aunt."
The boy sighed in exasperation, whispered "Fine" and asked no more questions.
When John tucked him into his bed, Johnny fell asleep instantly. When John was alone, he could only cry.
She stared out the window. The lights made strange halos on the street wet with the drizzle that had begun to fall again. In the distance, she saw shrink the figure of the taxi that John Bates had taken along with his adorable son.
She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jacket, knowing that she would be looking just like her daughter May, whom she always reminded not to commit such bad manners.
"Mom?"
She immediately forgot her thoughts upon hearing her name. Tim was at the door, looking undecided about whether or not to enter his parents' bedroom.
"Tim, do you need something?"
"Nope."
"Any one of your siblings?"
"No, Mom. I only came because I thought maybe you need company. Dad already fell asleep on the couch," he rolled his eyes, snorting.
"Oh poor thing, I'll go wake him up later," she smiled, and walked over to her son. He was taller every day and it hurt her to see that with every inch he was getting further away from her, but still she reached out to hug him and he strangely let her do it.
"Thank you son,"she smiled thanking him.
"Are you okay mom? I still don't really understand what is happening."
Shelagh sighed, turned to the window. Tim stood next to her, looking down the street even though they both saw nothing.
"Do you remember that I told you that my aunt raised me?"
"Yes, Lorna. She was bad and boring."
"She wasn't bad," Shelagh smiled wistfully, "She only was strict, and she didn't know how to treat children, she never had her own family. Yet she always loved me and I felt loved by her. She wanted the best for me."
They were silent for a few seconds, she heard Tim take a breath, nervous.
"You said once that your father abandoned you. When you told me I was afraid that Dad would do the same, but you realized right away what I was thinking and told me that he would never do that."
"And it's true. Your father is a wonderful father and man, sadly I can't say the same for mine. He had a kind of double life, with another wife and another daughter."
"That daughter is…Johnny's mother?"
"Yes. Her name is Anna. My aunt knew about her, she told me. I always knew about Anna but decided to ignore her until just over a month ago she showed up. She didn't know about all this, she knew it when my...when Joseph died."
Timothy took a deep breath, obviously scared.
"She didn't know anything?"
"No, she assured me several times. He told her before he died, and she later found letters from my aunt Lorna and my mother, and photographs of me."
"Wow, that must have been shocking."
"Yes, I guess it was hard for her. I've tried to ignore her but Johnny goes to the same school as your sisters. And today in the morning I decided to talk a little with her. It was a good talk. Then she called me asking for help, and with your father we took her to the Maternity Home. She had a miscarriage."
"Oh," the boy looked down, "That's very hard."
"It is, Tim. It is. It's terrible, and it doesn't matter that she already has Johnny, it still hurts a lot, physically, mentally, and spiritually. It's a terrible thing for a woman."
Timothy seemed to think for a bit, then he looked at her.
"And what are you going to do? I mean, what are you going to do with her? Are you planning to keep seeing her, try to be sisters or something?"
She flinched at the proposal.
"I hated her, but not anymore."
"But mom you don't hate anyone, you're like a little angel."
"Tim, you've been living with me for years, you know I'm not like that," she laughed a little, "I told you, I don't hate her anymore, but I don't want…what you say."
"A sister?"
She shuddered again, shook her head.
"It's not something I want."
"Well but I think you should talk to her more. Maybe you could be friends or something. I like her husband and so does the boy. He even knows a little French because he played with the rich children for whom his mother worked."
"Oh how smart boy, but I don't know Tim, she is, and at the same time she is not, my family."
"Mom, you weren't my family either and I always loved you. Even Granny Parker loves you, and she might hate you for taking her daughter's place and she doesn't, and she loves my sisters and Teddy too."
Shelagh smiled. Her son had a point.
"Oh lean over, I want to give you another hug."
Rolling his eyes, Timothy leaned down and let Shelagh hug him again and place a loud kiss on his forehead.
She heard the cry of a baby. It was crying insistently, as if no one except her was listening, or as if no one cared.
She shifted on the bed, there was a little clock on the wall, marking almost midnight. If John was firm, Johnny would already be asleep two hours ago. She thought of his angelic face, the way one of his feet always came out from under the covers and hung gracefully from the bed.
The baby's crying continued, she tried not to hear it covering her ears with the palms of her hands, but it was still there, as if it were stuck in her head.
Anna, stop the nonsense, you have a son, she repeated herself.
She pulled the covers aside. Yes, she already had a child, for whom she fought a lot. Still, it was unfair. Conceiving and then seeing how her joy was left in a toilet was not fair.
And she did not think she was such a bad person to deserve so much punishment.
The crying stopped.
Her son. Her and John's son. The child for whom she fought and suffered until she had the opportunity to give birth and tell John 'we have a son.'
John Joseph Bates.
She regretted giving that name to her son. Joseph ruined everything, her life, her mother's, and Shelagh's. Three good people, touched by the irresponsibility of one.
She thought of John, the great love of her life. Always suffering, and yet always being the excellent man that he was. She hated to disappoint him, because he deserved only good things after so much pain.
The baby cried again, harder and she sat up in bed.
"Please someone calm that baby!"
Her own yell startled her. The crying stopped and she curled up on the bed, scared. Was it her mind driving her crazy?
The door opened, a pretty but tired-faced nurse leaned out.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yes...yes."
"I thought I heard a scream."
"I…I don't know."
The nurse nodded and smiled.
"Good night," she greeted, already closing the door.
"There was a baby crying," she managed to say. The nurse opened the door again.
"Oh yes, I'm sorry. He is a little baby who was born yesterday, we were checking him and he didn't stop crying."
Anna nodded, tried to smile, but nothing came out. The nurse said good night again and closed the door.
She covered herself again with the blankets, suddenly she felt very cold. She tried to sleep, but again and again the images of that day appeared in front of her.
When she woke up it was already daylight, the sun was coming through a small window. She stretched calmly, but panic seized her when she noticed that she was not in her house, nor in her bed, and that a stabbing pain was lodged in her abdomen.
"Shh, calm down," a warm hand rested on one of hers. She turned, saw Shelagh sitting next to her.
"What...what time is it?"
"Early. Your husband will be here in a few moments, last night he mentioned that he would come after taking Johnny to school."
Anna nodded, tried to sit up, but the pain was still there, so a grotesque moan escaped her mouth. Shelagh stood up to help her settle.
"Didn't your daughters go to school?" she asked, without knowing why. She was still a bit asleep.
Shelagh smiled.
"Their father took them to school, I woke up and came straight here to see how you are."
Anna gulped. It was a nice gesture.
She rested her hand on Shelagh's.
"Thanks. I'm...fine, I guess. A little sore."
"I'll get you painkillers," Shelagh started to leave the room, but Anna stopped her.
"Wait! How is my son? Was...was he nice to you? Did he ask many questions?"
Shelagh smiled warmly, shook her head.
"There is no doubt that you are the mother of that child. He's polite, friendly, and kind hearted, he was very well behaved at home."
Her heart sank. She did not expect words like that. Shelagh continued.
"He didn't give any problems and had a great time with my children."
"Didn't he run over any of the girls?"
This time, Shelagh chuckled.
"I'm afraid they were the ones who took him from here to there. He was delighted with my oldest son's wood planes, so he will surely ask you for that for his birthday. He said it clearly twice: "I want planes for my birthday.""
"Oh God, that boy," Anna laughed a little, imagining his face.
She then she raised her eyes to Shelagh.
"Thanks for everything. I promise not to continue causing problems for you."
Shelagh smiled slightly, shook her head. Anna was going to ask her if she forgave her for everything, if maybe, somehow, they could have a little rapprochement. But Shelagh seemed to sense it, her eyes darkened and running a hand over her perfect hairstyle, glanced toward the door.
"I'll go get the painkillers," she excused herself, and left quickly.
Resigned, Anna decided to stop trying.
A week later
She adjusted her jacket, looking anxiously toward the school door. The children began to come out, screaming and running. She saw Johnny go out with his neighbor, they both carried the cardboard models that they had carefully prepared at home with the help of their mothers.
"Mom, I'll be a pirate!" Johnny slammed into her, hugging her with all his joy and enthusiasm. The model rolled on the floor and she leaned over to take it.
"John Bates, this gave us a lot of work, you must take care of it. Where will you be a pirate?"
"In the new play! And I will rescue May, she will be a princess! Did I tell you about May?"
She smiled, stroked her son's sweaty hair. In that week he had not stopped talking about his new friends. The Turners, to him, were the most incredible people he had ever known: the children were wonderful, their toys too, their rabbits, their house, their garden, their television, Shelagh's food, the doctor's car. As if it were a divine punishment, Anna had listened throughout her week of rest, the excited voice of her son telling great things about the Turners.
She was both angry and happy. It was as if, the more she wanted to get away from Shelagh, the closer she ended up being with her. And at the same time, seeing her son with new friends, cousins actually, when he had no siblings or other close family, it was really beautiful.
To her luck and misfortune, her sister and family were the kindest beings in all of Poplar.
She looked at her son, he continued talking and making big gestures about the play. She smiled at him, feeling a bit guilty that she was not paying attention.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the light blue of the nurse's uniform. She tried to ignore it, but Johnny was already tugging at her hand, walking over to Shelagh, waving and...
"Can May and Angela come to play at my house?"
"John!" Anna exclaimed. The boy looked innocently at Shelagh, while the two girls looked at her mother begging her to say yes.
Shelagh's face was flushed, she cleared her throat looking at Anna, who imperceptibly denied.
"Maybe another day," Shelagh finally said, smiling at all the children, "We're very busy today."
Shelagh's wobbly, nervous tone did not escape Anna. She nodded to Shelagh, thanking her in silence.
"Come on Johnny," she said, in a whisper, "Say goodbye to your friends."
The boy greeted everyone, quite disappointed, and tried to keep up with the fast pace of his mother, who was pulling him quite hard.
"Mom, are you angry?"
"No, honey."
"Does your belly hurt again?"
She smiled barely at him. Her son had been taking care of her during that week, the only thing he knew was that his mother "had a stomach ache", something that he attributed to eating a lot of sweets, as Anna always told him every time he felt bad. However, John had mentioned that in reality, the boy was not very convinced by the explanation and that he suspected there was something else.
"I'm fine Johnny, don't worry. I'm just a little cold. Winter is coming and we have to take care not to fall ill."
Johnny did not respond or say anything else, and the rest of the afternoon was entertained by watching his favorite television show, until his father arrived. When he saw John, the first thing he did was report:
"Mom was weird today."
John just laughed, commented on other things, and the boy soon forgot his worries. Family life continued normally until the youngest of the Bates settled into his bed and received his goodnight kisses. Once he was asleep, Anna approached her husband.
"What Johnny said was true. I was weird, first because it was the first time I went out after what happened, and then because Shelagh was there, and Johnny asked if her daughters could come and play here."
"Here? At home?"
"Yes"
"Wow, he's very in love with those two girls."
"John," she looked at him seriously, and he wiped his smile.
"Sorry love, I just thought it was funny. Our son never ceases to amaze me. Come here with me."
Anna sat down next to him on the couch and he put down the book he was reading. Then she heard him take a breath.
"There's a job in Dublin. Today I asked for it, and my request was accepted. I'll take it."
She pulled away and looked at him. His eyes were fixed on the ground.
"It is not a salary like the one I am receiving here, it is not as a manager," he continued, "But it is in the same hotel chain. The boss was a bit disappointed, but I explained to him that it is due to urgent family matters and he understood it."
She felt the tears pricking. She was being the complete culprit that her husband lost something that made him very happy and useful, something that gave him momentum and the satisfaction of progress. Besides, he was losing the trust placed in him. All for her, because she did not know how to deal with her life.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, avoiding looking at him.
"Honey, you know I'll do whatever it takes to keep you well. Don't be sad."
"Oh John don't say me that. You do everything and I..."
"And you what? You mustn't do anything. Also, look, Ireland is a very good place, I can see Johnny running through the fields, breathing much cleaner air than here. It will be a nice change for us."
She felt him caress her back up and down, smiling, trying to look jovial. She knew him too well to know that he was faking it.
"But… John, it's not necessary. Look, I can deal with this. I'll do that."
He smiled at her, kissed her cheeks.
"It's done, darling. In two weeks we can go. We will be fine, we will be calm."
She smiled at him, grateful. She hugged him.
"Thank you," she whispered in his ear, clinging to him.
The nightmare was about to end.
How much does it cost to get rid of pain?
How long does it take to forgive and forget?
How much courage does it take to start over?
She reverently caressed the image of her mother. Patrick had bought a nice frame, and very carefully, he placed the photo there and arranged the object next to the mirror on her vanity. She had thought of changing its place, because every time she looked in the mirror she found more wrinkles and looked older, while the girl in the photo was still a girl, and the mother who held her was still there, always the same, because she did not even have wrinkles on her beautiful face.
She recalled the brief encounter in the afternoon: Anna looked thin and pale, as if she had lost many pounds. She was clinging to her jacket, the one she wore when they transferred her to the maternity home. She was shivering with cold. Her son seemed to outweigh her. Shelagh saw the panic in her eyes as the boy, in all his innocence, asked if Angela and May could play at his house. Shelagh did not know what to do, and Anna guided her.
The best was a negative.
But the best for whom?
She closed her eyes, the images of her entire childhood ran through her mind: her mother, her father, her aunt. So much pain, so much contempt. So much hatred towards that unknown girl named Anna.
Enough Shelagh, you must forget about that. What happened also hurts her.
It was necessary to forgive. The burden on her soul was becoming very heavy and she no longer wanted to feel it. It was what she had to do, it was her Sister Bernadette's side that led her to forgive and feel compassion.
But Shelagh Mannion, her most primitive side, was screaming that she was a traitor.
She looked at the photo of her mother again. Impossible to know what she would do in her place, her presence vanished long before Shelagh knew how she thought, how she felt, in which things they were both the same and in which they were totally different. To be guided only by feelings for her dead mother was to condemn herself to survive in a spiral of doubt. The sensible thing to do was to make a decision based solely on herself.
She knew perfectly well what that decision was, but she was terrified to carry it out.
Teddy began to cry, breaking the quiet of the night. Shelagh immediately went to his cradle, picked him up, and tried to calm him down. It was late, Patrick would not be back until dawn, if he was lucky and the Lindorff twins were born by that time.
"What's up my sweet boy? Are those teeth bothering you again?"
The door was ajar and Shelagh saw Angela's face.
"Is something wrong with Teddy?" the girl asked sleepily.
"It's only his teeth that are growing and hurting. Go back to bed, honey."
Angela shook her head, rubbing her eyes and walking into the room.
"I can't sleep. Can I hold him, mommy? I want to sing to him, he always calms down when I sing to him."
Shelagh looked at her daughter, melting with her sweetness.
"Of course, my little one, sit on my bed."
Obediently, Angela sat up and reached out her little arms to hold her brother. She began to sing him a song basically made up by her and mixed with other songs that she knew, but in a sweet and simple way that made her little brother calm down and close his eyes.
Angela smirked looking at her mother.
"Very well my girl," Shelagh stroked her back.
"Can I be a mom now?" asked the girl with wide eyes. Shelagh swallowed a laugh so as not to wake the baby.
"Honey, there are still many years left for that, but I'm sure you will be the best mom. By now, you must be a good sister. And you are."
Angela smirked and looked at the baby in her arms. She adjusted his blanket delicately and whispered to him.
"A good sister should take care of her siblings and love them very much. I love you, Teddy."
Shelagh watched them. A good sister should take care of her siblings and love them very much.
Angela yawned, evidently her singing had also lulled her to sleep. Shelagh lifted the baby and settled him in the cradle, then turned to Angela, who instead of sitting on the bed, was sitting at the vanity, staring at the photo of Shelagh's mother.
"I would like to meet my granny," Angela said with a sigh that was too dramatic for a girl her age, "She was very pretty."
Shelagh smiled and knelt beside her.
"You are also very pretty, my angel."
Angela looked thoughtfully at the photograph, then sighed in the same dramatic way.
"I asked Tim if you're sad," she said, ignoring the impact he was having on her mother, "And he said yes, because he never lies to me. But he can't tell me why you are sad."
Shelagh swallowed, unable to predict where her daughter would lead the conversation and also marveling at how observant she was. Angela kept staring at the photo.
"When I'm sad or upset, or Tim or May are, you always say that you don't like that, that you always want to see us happy. If you're sad, your mom is sad too."
Suddenly, the signal Shelagh needed was there. Her mother, speaking through her daughter, repeating something that she repeated many times while she was ill and saw little Shelagh every day more lonely and dull.
She hugged Angela tightly to her chest, kissed her hair and her forehead until the girl squirmed, laughing.
"Mom, you're squeezing me!" she complained between giggles.
Shelagh pulled her away, but did not release her hold on her.
"Thank you my dear, my beautiful and perfect girl. You don't know how much I needed this."
The next morning she let Patrick get some more sleep. The Lindorff twins had made their appearance at almost 4 in the morning, so her husband had come crawling in much later. She quickly arranged everything so that he did not have to work that morning and she prepared the children for school.
She saw Anna standing, leaning against a wall, her knit jacket pressed against her small body. She wore, unlike other times, her hair down, and while Shelagh had seen it before, now she was more closely aware of how long, blonde and shiny it was, with soft waves. The other women had their hair in simple or more elegant hairstyles, but that day, Anna had chosen to just have a pair of buckles and her hair blowing in the wind. She looked incredibly young.
Shelagh said goodbye to her daughters and watched as Anna did the same with her son. The three children greeted each other at the door and entered the school.
When she greeted her she did not expect to startle her, but Anna pulled away from her as if she had seen a ghost.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Shelagh apologized.
"Don't worry," Anna smiled. "How are you, Shelagh?"
"That was exactly what I wanted to ask you."
Anna lowered her eyes, smiled slightly.
"Well, I'm fine," she whispered, then looked at her, "I...I must go, I need to buy some things."
Swallowing, Shelagh told herself that she must be the one to make the first move again.
"Anna, can I talk to you? We can go to the coffee shop again or walk around."
Anna squeezed her hands, looking around.
"I...I also need to talk to you."
"Perfect!" Shelagh grinned at her.
But Ana just lowered her eyes again, and she barely shook her head.
"We don't need to go anywhere. I just wanted to inform you that in two weeks I will be leaving."
Shelagh opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was not expecting something like that. She was determined to talk, to reach an agreement, to be something more or less like a friendship, to get to know each other a little more, for the sake of the children and themselves.
But her wish for Anna to disappear was fulfilled late, very late, when she no longer wanted Anna to disappear.
"Where?" she managed to say with the panic in her voice.
"Dublin."
"So far?"
Anna barely smiling, looking elsewhere.
"I thought you wanted me as far away from you as possible."
"That was before," Shelagh said hoarsely, taking a step closer to Anna, "I...I was thinking, and that's what I wanted to tell you: I forgive you. I forgive you for everything even though you didn't do anything wrong. I would like us to start over, as if we had not met because of these circumstances. Because… "she denied, unable to add anything else. She had no direction, she did not know what to say, the only thing she knew was that she felt a growing despair.
Anna took a step back.
"Shelagh I decided it's best for both of us. I'm a problem in your life, and there are too many painful memories that we cannot erase no matter how well we have good intentions. Neither you nor I need to keep trying again and again."
Shelagh felt her heart sink in indescribable pain that she had never felt before. Because of her, because of her selfishness, the only opportunity to have someone of her blood, a friend, a sister, was disappearing. She felt the tears growing in her eyes.
"Anna..." she begged, "Forgive me, please."
Anna looked at her, her pale eyes widening.
"Shelagh, why should I forgive you? You didn't do anything wrong."
"And you neither!" she screamed too loud. Next to them, a couple who were walking by, looked at them but nothing could have mattered less, "Anna, we are both innocent, we can start everything over again, please..."
Shelagh took a step toward her, and took her hands tightly.
"Don't go, Anna. I need you."
She was scared. She did not know if it was a dream or if she was insane from the medications she was taking.
Shelagh had taken her hands, begging her not to leave. Shelagh Mannion Turner was begging her, with tears in her eyes, that she did not leave her. Shelagh did not hate her, she was forgiving her and asking her to stay in her life.
Her wish was coming true, late. Dublin was already a fact, she could no longer subject her husband to her whims.
Anna slowly released her fingers from Shelagh's tight grip.
"Believe me, it will be the best for both of us. You can go on with your life without the memory of Joseph, and I'll do the same. Also, Dublin will be good for me and my son. It's a good place."
"But you don't have anyone there."
"Not here either, Shelagh."
"That's a lie, you have me and my family."
It hurt to see her like this, but Anna could not forget what happened before either. Shelagh always hated her, she did not want to know anything about with her presence in Poplar, and perhaps she was acting in such a different way just because of the compassion that Anna generated by almost dying. Anna knew that when things stabilized more, the hostility would be reborn.
It was a shame, because the two women were actually quite alike, but they were not made to share their lives in any way possible.
Anna squeezed a smile and denied.
"Sorry Shelagh. I really appreciate what you tell me. It is a relief for me that you forgive me, that you finally understand. But I'll go, it's done."
She took half a step away from her, but she heard Shelagh's cracking voice behind her.
"Anna please, let's talk."
She turned and looked at her.
"What do you want to talk about? We no longer have anything to say."
Shelagh removed her glasses, wiped her eyes, and put them back on.
"Come to dinner at my house. Tonight."
"What? "You're crazy," she said and was terrified that she had ruined everything, but Shelagh gave a sad laugh.
"Yes, I think I'm a little crazy. Anna, come with your family to dinner at my house. The children will be happy. Come and let's talk. Please. If you're leaving, let's talk one last time."
Her breath faltered. It was true, they need one last talk. A farewell, say goodbye and wish each other luck. After all, they were not standing there, in the middle of the street, hating themselves like before. They were on better terms. A dinner would not be too bad, and they would not be alone and uncomfortable, but the children would be there to distract them.
Anna looked at the ground, crossed her mind a little hope that after all, things would improve and become what they really were. Family.
She dismissed that emotion, as silly and insipid. She knew perfectly well that holding on to the impossible has dire consequences.
It would just be a dinner, a talk, and a goodbye. Afterward, life would go on.
She raised her eyes and looked at her. Shelagh looked just as hopeful.
"Fine, we'll go tonight."
Shelagh grinned, opened her purse, and tore a sheet of paper from a notebook where she wrote down her address. She handed it to her.
"Anna, I'll wait for you."
She nodded, before turning and leaving.
Shelagh sat next to her in the doorway and lit a cigarette.
"Do you want one?" she offered, then realized, "Oh, you told me you don't smoke."
"No," Anna smiled, then she looked inside the house where her son's laughter mingled with the music and animated chatter from both husbands. Shelagh found her a little uncomfortable.
"Easy, they're fine," she said, exhaling the smoke. Anna seemed to relax next to her. She rummaged in the pockets of her blue dress until she found a lollipop.
"It belongs to my son," Anna explained, removing the wrapping paper from it, "I always eat something sweet after dinner and these are my favorites."
Shelagh saw her sucking on the sweet with relish, with the same face of a girl enchanted by the strawberry flavor.
"It's a nice night," Anna said looking up at the sky, removing the candy from her mouth and holding it by its stick.
"Yes," Shelagh saw her hugging her legs, looking towards the street, "Anna, if you feel cold we can go inside."
"No," she smiled, denying, putting the candy back in her mouth, "I'm fine."
Shelagh concentrated on what was happening. A dinner that was not uncomfortable at all, with children playing, husbands chatting happily, laughter, abundant food. They all seemed to get along perfectly well; no one who was strange and came to the house at that moment could tell that they were not a family.
Seeing that all the common spaces in the house were taken, Shelagh suggested going to the front door and sitting there. She needed a cigarette and Anna seemed to understand, as she also seemed to understand that the time had come for both of them to talk about whatever they should talk about before saying goodbye.
"How...How have you been feeling these days?" Shelagh tried to start a conversation.
Anna grimaced, not looking at her.
"Sometimes good, and sometimes bad."
"I understand."
They were silent, the only sounds being the exhalation of her cigarette and Anna's teeth nibbling the lollipop.
"You know?" Anna said suddenly, "If I had met you before, I would have forbidden you to smoke."
Shelagh giggled, shocked by the unexpected statement.
"I know I shouldn't smoke. As a nurse, as a mother, as a former tuberculosis patient, I mustn't. But here I am. There are things that cannot be abandoned."
"I shouldn't eat sweets either," Anna said, showing the now clean stick of her lollipop., "But here I am."
"We are two vicious persons. I guess it comes with the blood."
Shelagh quickly regretted her little joke. She sounded too harsh, but Anna shrugged, a smirk on her lips.
"I think they are the only defects that we inherit. It's not too bad."
She nodded, looked down the deserted street. Sideways she saw Anna turning and looking inside the house.
"John, is something wrong?"
She heard Anna's husband apologizing and then Anna looked back down the street, fiddling with the lollipop stick between her fingers.
"He came to spy on us," she whispered. Shelagh laughed.
"I'm sure my husband sent him to do it."
Anna accompanied her in her laughter.
"They're wondering what the hell we're doing here," Anna said in a barely audible voice, but complicit.
"Yes, and getting ready to act in case we start fighting."
They both laughed, covered their mouths so as not to be heard, and then fell into a silence much more comfortable than before.
Shelagh tossed her extinguished cigarette out into the garden. She needed to know something from the night she met John Bates. The couple was perfect, but she did not miss the age difference between them.
"How did you meet him?" she said, knowing she was sounding too nosy. But she, too, needed a topic of conversation before finally saying goodbye.
"My husband?" Anna's eyes lit up, Shelagh could see it even though it was quite dark. There was love there, "Easy, we work in the same place. I dated a couple of guys from my town, all idiots. I was resigning myself to living forever single and in the Crawley house, and suddenly one day this man appeared," she shrugged her shoulders, smiling, "He was different from everyone, a true man. He had the respect of Lord Grantham, John saved his life during the war. That's why he has that problem with his leg."
Suddenly Shelagh wanted to know more. She turned her body completely towards Anna, who now had a sad face.
"Because of his difficulty walking, there were rumors among the employees. They didn't want him, they made jokes and tricks to make it difficult for him to do his job."
"That's cruel."
Anna nodded, cleared her throat.
"And...I didn't see his problems. I saw that he was a different person from everyone, and that was what really bothered others. And then one night I was sick, and he showed up with a tray with food and some flowers," she smiled broadly.
Shelagh also smiled when she saw Anna lost between tender memories.
"That's a nice touch."
"One day I got tired of flirting with him and I asked him openly if he wanted something with me or not."
Anna laughed when she saw Shelagh opening her eyes and her mouth.
"Wow, Anna. You're very bold."
"Then everything was fast, a short courtship and we got married. Well, there were bad things. He was divorced, his wife was a mess, and then she was found dead. They wanted to incriminate him."
"God! Anna that's terrible!"
She nodded, hugging her legs again. She wiped away a falling tear with one hand, and Shelagh knew that part of her story still bothered her.
"He was imprisoned for a time, until they couldn't find evidence against him and we managed to get married. That's why Joseph didn't want him, he said that I shouldn't marry an ex-convict and that he looked like my grandfather and not my husband and things like that. His words hurt me a lot, because I knew that John was the noblest person I had ever known."
Shelagh stared at her.
"I'm glad that you have been able to get married and start a family despite all the obstacles. I asked you because I notice that you both love each other and that he adores you, and that makes me happy, you deserve to have someone like him by your side."
Anna smiled, hid her face, embarrassed. Then she turned back to Shelagh.
"Tell me how you met your husband."
Shelagh blushed, shook her head.
"Oh no, it's nothing important."
"Come on, I told you mine. Also," Anna lowered her voice, looked into the house and then looked at Shelagh, "I see that we share a good taste for older men."
"Anna!" she said with an uncontrollable laugh. The woman next to her joined her too in the laughter.
"Okay, don't tell me, I can imagine the story."
Shelagh gave a mischievous smile. She was enjoying this conversation.
"Well, I challenge you to guess."
Anna straightened up, stretched her legs and looked at her feet.
"It's easy. You, nurse and him, doctor. You met in a hospital, perhaps with a dying man between the two of you, who was unaware that he was intervening in a love story."
Shelagh laughed, covered her mouth.
"You're very wrong Anna Bates," she smiled, straightening up and looking at her sidelong, "Nothing further than that. Although the dying man...Well, perhaps he was there when I met Patrick."
This time was Anna who laughed out loud. Shelagh cleared her throat. She did not like to share her past, but she was sure that Anna would appreciate a romantic story.
"Indeed, he was a doctor. And I was a nurse too. But, too...I was a nun."
She saw Anna open her eyes.
"No! You're kidding!"
Shelagh laughed. Anna's face looked amused.
"I'm not kidding, I'm telling the truth. I was Sister Bernadette for ten years. I worked with Patrick for...ten years, I think," she smiled, "I was just a little girl when I came here and he had his family. It wasn't until his first wife died that I began to...really see him. I also had doubts about my life. It was a time of confusion, and then I got sick, which further contributed to the confusion. And he began to write letters to the sanatorium..."
"God, that's so romantic!"
Shelagh had to laugh, Anna looked like a teenager.
"And what else happened?" she asked eagerly.
"I came to the conclusion that I shouldn't choose between God or Patrick. I could continue serving God, but together with Patrick. It's difficult when you are with your vocation so firm and suddenly everything begins to falter and on top of that you notice that the doctor you work with every day loves you and you love him."
Anna smiled, and so did she, suddenly very sensitive. She felt her heart trembling, it had been so long since that, and everyone who knew her knew her story or ignored it or did not care. She had never told it, there was no need, but there she was telling it to someone who seemed happy, because Anna wiped her eyes and looked at her with a smile.
"I'll tell you the same thing you said to me: you deserve someone like him, because I can see how you love each other. That makes me happy."
Then Anna rested one of her hands on hers, squeezed it barely.
"Do you realize that we both had a lot of courage to follow our hearts?"
Shelagh felt a couple of big tears run down her cheeks. She looked up at her.
"Anna, are you really going?"
She nodded, sniffed.
"Are you leaving after this? Is it necessary?"
"Yes, Shelagh. Believe me, it's for the best."
She nodded, accepting it. She felt a rage rebelling inside her, things happened in an unmanageable way.
"Fine, Anna."
Anna squeezed her hand, and smiled.
Anna wanted to hug her. She had someone of the same blood as hers here, next to her. Her younger sister. She tentatively put a hand on her shoulder, Shelagh said nothing or moved.
She heard the laughter of the children running around the room, surely creating chaos.
"Can you imagine if we had grown up together?"
Anna looked at Shelagh, surprised by her question. She kept staring at the ground, sniffing, trying to hold back a few tears, her hand still covered by Anna's.
The question made her dizzy, but she tried to imagine Shelagh, a girl like the one in her father's photos, being neat and calm as she was now. And she, Anna, as what she was, as her son was now: restless, from here to there.
She heard Shelagh laugh a little, shaking her head.
"Surely you would have made fun of my glasses. They all did."
Anna smiled, squeezed her shoulder tighter.
"I admit that I was a wild girl at times, and that surely I would have bothered you with that. But not to hurt you. You know, a joke. But I'm sure you would have been neat and quiet, with frilly pink dresses and perfect hair, and I, pretty dirty, rolling around with my hair in a mess, because I was that kind of girl. The both of us quite different, but...the same in other ways."
She saw her smile barely, but her voice betrayed with anguish.
"I wanted a sister, you know? I was alone for a long time. Sad and away from everyone. The days in Scotland are always gray, it rains, there is wind and cold. And I was in a house, looking out the window. Alone, always alone," she swallowed, "I wanted my father back, I wanted a sister, a friend. Someone to go outside and run with, despite the cold and rain."
Anna's heart sank. It was so easy to tell Shelagh that it was already in the past when it was actually still there. There would always be a bad memory, years of loneliness could not be erased with a night in the garden chatting and laughing. She squeezed Shelagh's shoulder and stood up.
"It's late," she announced. "We must go."
Shelagh also stood up and shook one of her hands.
"Good luck, Anna."
She looked at their clasped hands, and nodded, swallowing a knot.
"Good luck, Shelagh."