Anne Bennett 3-Book Collection: A Sister’s Promise, A Daughter’s Secret, A Mother’s Spirit. Anne Bennett
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write to me.’
‘Why on earth not?’
‘Because my grandmother considers them heathens.’
‘That’s rubbish!’ Cathy said. ‘Anyway, she can’t stop them.’
‘She can, you know, and she does,’ Molly said. ‘I don’t have a penny piece of my own, for a start. My granddad thought of that and gave me a writing pad and envelopes and some Irish stamps, and I wrote to him and Hilda just the once. Uncle Tom posted the letters in Buncrana. I never thought of asking permission – didn’t think I would need it – but my grandmother went mad when she knew. Replies would have come for me, I know that, but I never saw them. She confiscated all the stuff my grandfather gave me and wrote and told them not to write to me again, that she was severing all communication between us.’
‘That is perfectly dreadful,’ said Cathy, distressed.
‘I thought your mother might have told you,’ Molly said.
Cathy shook her head. ‘Mammy never talks of things like that,’ she said. ‘She said it isn’t nice to bandy gossip about, and particularly because she does know, or could probably guess, a lot of what goes on in people’s lives because of the job she does and things people say when they confide in her. She can keep things pretty close to her chest, can my mother when she wants to.’
‘Would she tell me things if I asked her directly?’ Molly asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Cathy said. ‘But personally I think you have a right to know if letters came for you and you never got them. We’ll be having dinner soon and we’ll bring it up at the table.’
Cathy did bring it up and Nellie looked decidedly uncomfortable. She knew of the letters that had come for Molly as she knew of the missive Biddy had sent banning them, though at first, despite that, the letters came thick and fast. She hadn’t thought to mention any of this to her daughter, though as she watched the friendship develop between them, she had thought the day might come when she would have to explain herself. So when she was asked so directly she said to Molly, ‘There were letters that came for you, at first anyway, but your grandmother obviously thought that it was better you didn’t see them.’
Nellie looked into Molly’s eyes, so sad they were like pools of pain in that battered face, and her stomach contracted in pity for the young girl.
‘I don’t know if you were aware of the letter Biddy sent, banning all communication, Molly. I only know myself because she told me. I thought it was the wrong thing to do then and I told her so, and I haven’t changed my opinion. Anyway, those in Birmingham took no notice at first either because for a time the letters continued to come.’
Cathy was perplexed. She looked at her friend and recognised her suffering as she burst out, ‘But why did you give them to the postman, Mammy, knowing that Molly wasn’t going to be allowed to receive them?’
‘I didn’t know that absolutely at first,’ Nellie protested. ‘It was only when Molly never mentioned anything about them that I had my suspicions. After that, every time I put the letters for you in the sack, my heart would sink. It was almost a relief when they eventually stopped coming.’
‘I still don’t understand why you gave letters to the postman when you realised that?’ Cathy insisted.
Nellie bit back, ‘I did it because I had to.’
Cathy shook her head. ‘You could have just left them all here and Molly could have had them when she came over on Sunday.’
‘If only you knew just how often I have been tempted to do just that,’ Nellie said. ‘But withholding mail is a serious offence, and one I would be in really hot water for if it were brought to the authority’s notice.’
‘But isn’t Molly’s grandmother withholding her mail?’
‘Yes, but Molly is a minor and under her grandmother’s care,’ Nellie said. She felt burdened by her part in all this, and in an effort to explain she addressed herself again to Molly.
‘If I was to do this and your grandmother was to find out, she could make trouble for me because of it, and you know, don’t you, Molly, that she would delight in doing that?’
Molly loved Nellie, the woman who had shown her nothing but kindness from the very first, and she saw immediately her dilemma.
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I do understand, and you are right, my grandmother would love to get you into trouble – I know that as well as you – and I would hate it and feel responsible.’
‘If only we could find a way around this,’ Cathy mused.
Jack had taken no part in the discussion so far, but now he said sharply to his daughter, ‘Cathy, stop this at once. Your mother has explained it to you. Let that be an end to it.’
‘But what if Molly was to write from here and they could write back, addressing their letters to me?’
Nellie stared at her daughter. In fact, they all stared at her. Nellie knew she shouldn’t agree to this, but Jack said, ‘Don’t see any harm in that, Nellie. After all, there is no law in the land that says Cathy can’t write to anyone in the world if she takes a mind.’
‘The postman will wonder,’ Nellie said.
‘Yeah, he might, but he won’t connect it with Molly, will he?’ Cathy said. ‘You can tell him that I have a couple of pen friends in England, if you like. They are always advising us to do that at school, to broaden our horizons or something. Some of the others already do it, so it won’t seem all that strange.’
‘Do you know,’ Jack said, ‘it may just work. What d’you say, Molly?’
Molly turned her eyes on Jack and he saw the little flame of hope that had suddenly burned within her go out. She knew writing to her people was as remote a reality as ever, because she couldn’t afford writing pad and envelopes, never mind stamps every week. Jack, though, guessed what was troubling her and, excusing himself, he left the table, coming back a few minutes later with a writing pad, a stack of envelopes and two pens.
‘Here you are, Molly,’ he said. ‘Merry Christmas, and don’t you worry about stamps, for I will buy them for you myself and will be glad to do it.’
Molly looked around the table at those good, kind people, so eager and willing to help her, and suddenly it was all too much, and she laid her head on the table and cried her eyes out.
When Stan had first received the command from Biddy that he stop writing to Molly, he went to see Hilda to find that she had received a similar letter. Even knowing Biddy’s character as he did, he didn’t think that she really and truly intended to totally cut the orphan child off from those who loved her and that when she had thought about it, she would relent. Hilda agreed with him and for a while they continued to write, until it was obvious from the silence that the letters were not getting through.
Stan had been so concerned that eventually, as Christmas was approaching, he had screwed up his courage to see Paul Simmons to tell him of his anxieties and ask his advice. Paul Simmons said he had reason to be concerned and admitted to Stan that he hadn’t taken to Biddy Sullivan when he had seen her at the funeral. He said he had been worried and a little dismayed when he realised that Molly was going to live with the old harridan in some godforsaken hole in Ireland.
‘There was nothing else for it,’ Stan said. ‘Even without the influence of the Church – though it would never do to underestimate the power that has – they couldn’t let her live with me, her being a girl and all, without a woman’s presence in the house.’
‘I crossed my mind to make her my ward,’ Paul said. ‘But then I thought I have a job of work to do, so she would be in the care of servants