FAMILY TIES, PART TWO

It was raining when the Hutchins family landed at Dublin Airport.

"There's a reason why Ireland is called the Emerald Isle." said Carl. "It takes a lot of rain to keep all that greenery fresh."

Carl had arranged for a car to be waiting.

"This must be it." Rachel said, "It's the only Mercedes with two toddler carseats in the back."

Carl double-checked that the seats had been installed properly before putting Elizabeth and Cory into them. Debra and the various diaper bags and toys and such squeezed in beside them. Carl loaded the rest of the luggage into the trunk -"Boot, Darling; in Ireland it's a boot. Only elephants have trunks."

"Well," he said, when they were finally ready to roll, "Unless you have a burning desire to visit Trinity College and see the original Book of Kells, we may as well proceed at once to the convent of the Little Sisters of St Jude."

"Aren't you forgetting something, Darling?" said Rachel, "We weren't allowed to bring any food into the country with us. Our first stop had better be a supermarket, to stock up on juice and crackers for the Grubs."

The rain stopped as they drove west or maybe they had just driven out from under the edge of the cloud. Rachel sat back and gazed out at the Irish countryside. It seemed odd that the steering wheel was on the 'wrong' side of the car.

"The air is certainly sweet here." she said.

"Sweetest air in the world, the west of Ireland." said Carl, "There's the whole Atlantic Ocean between us and the nearest source of pollution."

"Carl! Stop the car! Go back!"

Carl obediently backed the car up,

"There!" Rachel said, "That gate - isn't that the Hutchins coat of arms?"

"Indeed it is." said Carl, 'This must be where my father grew up. He only ever talked about his background once that I can recall. He said that his family were landed, but penniless gentry. He and Aoife were born in the house where the Hutchins family had lived since the reign of Elizabeth, a ramshackle place without a whole brick in its walls or an undamaged slate in its roof. If a pane of glass was broken, there wasn't enough money to replace it. Yet his parents never seemed to notice that they were bankrupt. The bailliffs were practically camped out in the kitchen, but they still walked around as though they were Kings of the Earth. He left home at sixteen, with an iron determination to do whatever it took to become rich."

"Who lives here now?" Rachel asked.

"As far as I know, my father and Aoife were the last of the family." said Carl, "It's probably empty."

"Shall we take a look at it?"

"Why not?"

The rusty gate was persuaded to open, though it screeched in protest, and Carl eased the car through, and down the overgrown drive. The house wasn't visible until they rounded the curve.

"Oh! Oh, Carl! Darling, I'm so sorry!"

The house was worse than derelict - it was a ruin. One wing had burned to the ground at some time in the past, and the roof of the rest had fallen in completely.

"Level, level with the ground/ The towers do lie/ Which with their golden glittering tops/ Pierced once the sky." Carl murmured.

"Oh Carl, your ancestral home!"

"It belongs to the Past." Carl said firmly. "The future of the Hutchins family lies in the New World."

Even so, he just sat there, gazing at the house, until Rachel said gently: "Shall we go find that convent now?"

"Not quite yet." said Carl, pulling himself together. "The Grubs have been cooped up in those seats for hours. Let's give them a chance to stretch their legs. If any ancestral ghosts are lurking here, it will show them that the family Does have a future."

So Cory and Elizabeth, carefully supervised by their parents and nanny, were allowed to run around the overgrown garden until they had exhausted themselves. They fell asleep as soon as they were buckled up again.

***

Meanwhile, in Boston: "Anne Stafford?"

"Yes?"

Cindy looked at the handsome middle-aged woman, trying to see a resemblance. Something in the shape of the face, perhaps -?

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Cindy Halliday. Cynthia Brooke Halliday. I think you're - my mother."

If Cindy had hoped the news would be greeted with hugs and kisses and cries of 'My little girl!', she was doomed to disappointment. Anne Stafford acted as though Cindy had just said 'I used to live down the street'.

"I see." she said, "Perhaps you should come in, then."

"This is rather embarassing." she said, when they were seated in the living room. "The adoption agency promised me confidentiality. They really had no business giving you my name without asking my permission. So, uh - what did you say your name was ?"

"Cindy."

"Why are you here, Cindy?"

"I wanted to meet you." Cindy said. "I hoped you could tell me about my father."

"Your father? There's very little to tell. He was just - someone I met at a cocktail party and had a brief fling with. It was one of the few times in my life I ever let myself get carried away."

Cindy couldn't imagine this cool, self-possessed woman ever being carried away by anything.

"So, I'm the result of a one-night stand." she said.

"Three-night stand. We spent the weekend together. " said her mother. "It was - shameless and abandoned and rapturous. We both knew it wasn't going to last. For one thing, he was only in Boston on business. We said our goodbyes Monday morning, and that was the last time I ever saw him."

"You didn't tell him when you found out you were pregnant?"

"No. I suppose I could have tracked him down, but what would have been the point? It wasn't as though I wanted him to marry me. For all I know, he was already married. No, I decided not to get an abortion -"

"Thanks." said Cindy, dryly.

"Instead, I arranged for the child - for you - to be adopted by people who actually Wanted a baby. I met the Brookes; they seemed very nice. They had been trying to conceive a child of their own for years -"

"Six months after they got me, they succeeded." said Cindy."My sister Sarah."

"Really? Then it all worked out for the best, for everyone concerned."

"Yeah, sure." said Cindy. "Look, uh, Ms Stafford, here's my address and phone number, in case you ever want to get in touch." Cindy knew how unlikely THAT was! "Before I go, do you happen to remember my father's name?"

"How could I forget? It was - Carl." A faint smile curled the corners of her lips at the memory.

"Carl?" said Cindy, "Not - Carl Hutchins?"

"Now how could you possibly know that?"

"I - know him."

"What a coincidence!"

***

When they arrived at the convent, Carl and Rachel requested an interview with the Mother Superior.

(Note: I am incapable of writing realistic Irish dialect, so I am not even going to try. If you like that sort of thing, you can just imagine it for yourself.)

Carl explained his quest briefly. "One of the clues my aunt left me was this." He showed her the bookmark.

"That's one of our prayer cards, all right." said the nun.

"Somehow, this convent is connected to the mystery surrounding my birth.' said Carl. "I was born in 1941. Perhaps This is Where I was born. Do your records go back that far?"

"Our records go back to the 1300's, when the foundation stone was laid." said the Mother Superior.

"If you would be so kind as to look and see if anything - unusual - happened here in 1941, I'd be - grateful."

Carl took out his checkbook and wrote, then handed the result to the nun.

"Blessed Mother!" she said, "Now we can get that new roof on the chapel! It will take us a few minutes to search out the records."

"While we wait, could we speak to any of the sisters who might remember that far back?"

"It's been a long time, Mr Hutchins." said the nun, "The only one of us who was even here then is Sister Sorcha, and she - well, her wits tend to wander."

"Such people often remember the distant past more vividly than what they had for breakfast." said Carl, "I'd like to speak with her, if I may."

"Very well. "

***

"Are you going to tell Carl Hutchins that you're his daughter?" David asked.

"No!" said Cindy. "Why should I? It's not as though he'd be pleased."

She grabbed the telephone and dialled.

"Carl Hutchins please! - Oh - I see - No, no message. Thank you." She hung up.

"Mr and Mrs Hutchins have gone out of town." she said, "She doesn't know when they'll be back."

***

The elderly nun entered the convent parlour slowly.

"Sister Sorcha?" said Carl, "How do you do? My name is - "

"I know who you are, Mr Andrew Hutchins." she said. "I was the novice who opened the door when you brought your sister here, and then again when you took her away."

"My sister?" said Carl, "Aoife?"

"Oh, she was pretending to be a princess - but she told Me the truth. Me and the priest."

"A Princess?"

"Your fancy-woman! Aoife pretended to be her, having a religious retreat for six months, while she was really having your baby! And her married woman! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

"No doubt." said Carl, "Sister , did Aoife -"

"Puss, puss!" The old nun was looking around the room. "Have you see the cat?"

"No, I haven't," said Carl, "Sister Sorcha -"

"She's a proper wee nun." she said, "Black with a white front, and white paws. Puss, where are you?"

Mother Superior entered the room.

"Mother, I can't find Puss!"

"Puss is in the kitchen, begging scraps from Sister Grace."

Reassured, the elderly nun wandered out.

"I've looked through our records, Mr Hutchins." said Mother Superior. "No child was born here in 1941. No, the only unusual thing that happened that year was that a woman came to us for a retreat."

"And - her name?" As she hesitated, he went on. "Please, it's very important! I must know!"

"Grand Duchess Olga De Vilbis."

"GDO!" Rachel exclaimed, "Grand Duchess Olga!"

To be continued.