A couple of nights later, Mrs Lynch had been watching the television, when there was a knock on the door. It was Teddy, soaked to the skin in the rain, holding his baby. He was a man of few words but from what she could gather, his mother wasn’t coping very well and he wondered if their neighbour Mrs Lynch could take care of the baby for a while. Naturally she had been apprehensive, her own children were school age by then and she hadn’t relished the idea of nappies and sleepless nights, but Elizabeth had been a model baby. The calmest, happiest child that she had ever seen. A couple of months went by and there was no sign of the Foleys taking back their little one. Edward would call down with milk, or a bucket of spuds, and check in on his daughter, but always headed home empty-handed. Mrs Lynch had begun to feel as if this child would be hers forever. Then she heard a couple of rumours that Edward was courting. She couldn’t quite believe it. Mary wasn’t more than a few months dead. But then with no fanfare it was announced he had remarried.
While people couldn’t begrudge Teddy Foley a little happiness, this did seem odd. Not just because it was so fast, but because this was a man who had never had a girlfriend, barely spoken to a woman, and now in the blink of an eye he had managed to bury one wife and then find another one. Of course Mrs Lynch imagined that baby Elizabeth would be going home. She assumed that this rushed wedding had been brought about by a desire to give the baby a new mother, but that wasn’t what happened. Edward explained that his wife was ill and wasn’t up to looking after the child. A week passed and then another but still she was ill. At the time there were two schools of thought. Those with wilder imaginations began to suggest that no wife existed at all. Only one woman had been seen with him and they had had a blazing row outside Carey’s. The whole marriage was just Edward Foley finally parting ways with his sanity. The more sympathetic amongst the community believed that he had managed to find a new bride but worried that this one was even more sickly than Mary. They braced themselves for further tragedy to visit Castle House.
As it transpired everyone was proved wrong. Patricia Foley recovered after a few weeks and one evening a nervous Edward came to Mrs Lynch and returned home with his precious parcel.
By this point in the tale Elizabeth had begun to weep again in earnest and Mrs Lynch decided that her audience could bear no more. She glossed over the subsequent events, bringing her story quickly to an end by saying, ‘And then we heard Teddy’s new wife had left and taken you with her.’
‘Why? Why did she leave?’ Elizabeth pleaded, her mouth as red and wet as her eyes.
Mrs Lynch got up from the table, busying herself at the sink.
‘No one knew. It was all very sad. But now if you’ll excuse me I must get ready. Cathy will be back to take me down to the hairdresser’s.’ It was a lie but she had spent enough time with this woman who had unwittingly trailed such sadness through the house. It seemed incredible that this was what had become of the happiest of babies. The interview was over and Elizabeth had stumbled out to her car.
The fog seemed to be edging closer. Elizabeth pulled her scarf tight around her neck and got up from the wall. So many lies. Her father wasn’t dead and the mother she had buried wasn’t really hers. Had her mother, the woman who had raised her, stolen her? But Edward knew where they lived, he could have come to find her whenever he wanted. Why hadn’t he come?
Around the side of the house, the wind picked up and Elizabeth zipped up her coat to stop it flapping open. She was below the ruins of the castle now. It seemed much bigger from this angle than when she had seen it from the farmyard. She felt dwarfed by it. This was the ancient home of the Foleys and as far as she knew she was the end of the line. Or was she? Who knew what other secrets these walls held and now there was also the promise of her unborn grandchild. She pulled up her hood. There was too much going on in her life. When were things going to become easy? How many more dramas would she have to endure before things became simple? That was all she wanted. To go to work, come home, make grilled cheese sandwiches and read a book until bedtime. She turned around, stretching her arms out, and let out a wild yell, which was whipped out to sea by the breeze.
THEN
Edward had slept in the room with Patricia and Elizabeth. The baby had been the first to drift off and then Patricia, sitting on the bed, had allowed her head to lean back on the pillows for a moment before sleep had claimed her too. Edward had stood up and looked at the two sleeping figures before him. He thought of Mary then. The simple, happy life that might have been, rather than this unholy mess. He leaned down and turned out the lamp. He waited for a moment and then, like a ghost in the darkness, he lay down on the floor beside the bed. The rough thread of the old carpet felt good against his cheek, and the sweet scent of baby talc and lotion soothed him towards sleep. He listened to the soft breathing and told himself that he could fix things. There had to be a happy ending for someone in this sorry tale.