‘Smug, perfect life? You have no idea. And this guy? Despite you introducing him to me and several others, he never acknowledges us on the street. Never even answers us when we say hello. Nobody believes he’s Mark’s cousin. Who is he, Sally?’
When I refused to tell her or explain why I’d been screaming, she said she couldn’t help me.
‘If he’s your boyfriend and he’s left you, well good riddance. He’s not good for you. You didn’t keep secrets before he arrived. I hope he never comes back.’
‘Get out, Martha, I never asked you to come!’ I yelled at her.
She stopped on her way to the door. ‘You know, I went out of my way to make allowances for you, Sally. I welcomed you into my home and I let you into my children’s lives. But your tragic childhood and weird upbringing does not give you any excuse to be a bitch!’ She slammed the door on her way out.
I didn’t want to see Mark. I knew he would be angry. I decided to go and see Aunt Christine in Dublin and tell her everything. There was still no way I could face city driving and motorways. I got the evening train to Dublin by myself and Aunt Christine met me at the station. The journey was just about bearable. Strangers sat beside me and in front of me, but I looked out of the window at the rolling green fields and pretended to be deaf.
I began to tell Aunt Christine the story of Peter when we were in her car, but she seemed stricken by the news and asked me to wait until we got to her house. When we settled down with a pot of tea, I began to tell her who Peter was.
‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘I think Jean knew.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She suspected that there was another child. She always said that it didn’t make sense that Denise would not let go of you if you’d had separate bedrooms in the Killiney house. She said Denise insisted that she had always slept by your side, but we knew there was that bedroom next door.’
‘What? But why wasn’t that information anywhere in Dad’s records?’
‘He didn’t believe it. Denise refused to answer any questions about having another child. Tom said if she’d had a son, she would have been screaming about him too.’
‘Screaming?’
‘Look, Sally, I’ve kept my mouth shut for so many years, but your dad could be a tyrant. He could also be misogynistic. Jean’s opinions were never as valid as his. There is something I need to tell you. I have tried to be honest with you as far as I can, but there is no need for me to hide information from you any more. I’m not telling you any of this to hurt you, but you should know the truth.’
‘What truth?’
‘The truth about Jean and Tom, your mum and dad.’
‘Go on.’
‘Jean was a lot more intelligent than your dad. She strongly objected to the way he treated you. She said that he never saw you as a daughter, but as a patient. He experimented on you, trying out different treatments and medications, evaluating everything. When you left school, Jean was adamant that you should go to college. You had brains to burn and you could have studied anything, music obviously, but she thought you’d be a good engineer too. You have a very mathematical mind. You didn’t want to do anything.’
‘I remember.’
‘But it was so bad for you, Tom insisting on the move to an even more remote village, becoming more and more isolated. Jean was desperate for you to meet other people. No matter how you resisted, you must understand now that it would have been best for you.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Tom disagreed. He wanted you to do exactly what you wanted so that he could study you. Jean was on the point of leaving him when she had a stroke.’
‘What?’
‘She suffered from high blood pressure, and the stress of fighting with Tom and you over your future was too much for her. He wasn’t … kind to her, Sally. Thank God you never saw that side of him. She had planned to leave him, but she didn’t know if you would come with her. You were over eighteen then, technically an adult. I don’t suppose she ever discussed it with you?’
‘No, I would remember that. But the weekend before she died, she wanted me to come and visit you with her. Does that mean –’
‘She knew you didn’t like change, and she’d planned to make the move gradually –’
‘But then she had a stroke?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why are you telling me this, Aunt Christine?’
‘Because I don’t want to go to my grave harbouring secrets that are more your business than mine. How he treated your birth mother, well …’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If Denise’s behaviour didn’t match his own interpretation, he dismissed it and called her hysterical. There were those toy soldiers …’
‘What toy soldiers?’
‘Everything that belonged to Denise and you was brought to the unit in St Mary’s Hospital, to your living quarters. There wasn’t much. You didn’t have any toys except for these toy soldiers. Denise said they weren’t yours. Jean quizzed her about who they belonged to, but she stayed silent. When Jean queried the guards, they said the soldiers had been found under the bed in the small white bedroom.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
‘What was the point in telling you something that didn’t make sense? I never even thought about it when that teddy bear arrived. Did your brother send it to you? Did he sleep in the small white bedroom, Sally?’
‘Yes.’ Peter had taken Toby with him when he left. I couldn’t imagine what he wanted with the bear.
‘How strange that evil man was, to separate mother and son, brother and sister, and yet have them living a room apart. Did you like him, your brother?’
‘Peter? Yes, I really did. I understood him. He was moody and silent a lot of the time, but it must have taken so much courage to get on a plane and cross the world to come and tell me the truth. I think he was very brave. I’m so upset that he’s gone.’
I felt a shuddering in my chest, as if all the air was being squeezed out. I began to sob real tears for the very first time I could remember. Aunt Christine held me and I put my head on her thin shoulder, and it seemed like every sorrow I should have felt for decades came pouring out on to Aunt Christine’s kitchen table. She stroked my head and made soothing noises, the way mothers do to small babies.
She wanted to know why he had never gone to the police and I explained about his anxiety, his social isolation, his fear of strangers, the brainwashing over years with my birth father. She wanted to know if he had succeeded in life, at least professionally.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He was head of cyber security at a bank headquarters. I think he’ll probably go back to that job.’
‘So, he’s okay financially, then?’
‘Oh, he certainly is.’ I told Aunt Christine about Margaret’s death and the inheritance and how I’d shared it with Peter before he left.
‘Hold on,’ she said, ‘how long after you gave him the money did he leave?’
‘Straight away. There was a lot of fuss about the money and I had to transfer it to him in cryptocurrency –’