Page 39 of The Secret Bookshop in Ireland

Ciara held out her hand. ‘Let me have a look.’ She took the bundle that Maureen handed her and peered at the first envelope. ‘It’s written on very thin paper, nearly see-through.’

‘Airmail,’ Maureen said. ‘We used it for letters that had to go abroad to minimise weight. Haven’t seen airmail letters since the nineteen eighties.’

Ciara pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. Then she examined the letters one by one. ‘These letters were sent from Australia in nineteen fifty-four, judging by the stamp and the postmark. They’re addressed to Martha.’ Ciara fished out a thin page from the first envelope. ‘It’s hard to make out what’s written. The ink has become pale and nearly invisible. But I can see that this one is from Madge. So she must have gone to Australia after the war.’

‘Can you see any of the text?’ Maureen asked, sitting down beside Ciara.

‘Just the last few words,’ Ciara said. ‘“Love from your Aussie sister down under. Write soon, I so love to hear from you.” And then it says, “Madge”.’ She handed the letter to Maureen and picked up the next one. ‘Ah, this one is a lot clearer. “Darling Madge, I am now a married woman, the wife of a retired army captain who is the nicest man I have ever met. You would love him and I do hope that you will come and visit us on the farm in the Blue Mountains. Len is looking forward to your visit, which will happen as soon as we can send you the money for the trip. You will find me transformed into a farmer’s wife with an Australian accent, which will make you laugh. Oh, Martha, you have no idea how happy I am, even though I’m very homesick for Ireland, and sad about the baby I was forced to give away. You have told me the couple who adopted my darling little boy arekind and loving and that he has the best home any child could hope for. That makes me happy, even though I know I will never see him again.”’

‘That’s so sad,’ Maureen said. ‘Imagine having to give away your own child. How awful that must have been for the poor girl.’

‘For many such young women at the time, I can imagine,’ Ciara said and picked up the next letter. ‘This one is again very difficult to make out. All I can see is, “Dear Martha, Sorry to hear that” – and then the words are too faint to see. The ink must have deteriorated through the years.’ She turned the page. ‘“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine, even though I have to accept that Len and I will not have any children of our own.”’ Ciara looked at Maureen. ‘Must have meant she had some kind of surgery or illness that affected her ability to have children.’

‘Something like that,’ Maureen agreed. ‘Which makes her having to give up her baby even sadder.’

‘I know.’ Ciara had come to the last letter in the bundle. ‘This one is not as damaged,’ she said and fished out the letter from the envelope. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘The text is very clear. Beautiful handwriting too.’

‘What does it say?’ Maureen asked.

‘Just a minute,’ Ciara said as she began to read the first page. What it said made her heart race. ‘Oh my God,’ she mumbled. ‘This explains a lot.’ She read the letter through to the end and then handed it to Maureen. ‘Read it for yourself.’

NINETEEN

Dearest Martha,

I know you will be sad to hear my news, but I felt I had to tell you. I’ve been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, which explains all the trouble I’ve had lately. It’s incurable and the doctor told me I only have a year or so before the end. It’s a horrible blow for dear Len, who has been so kind and caring all through my illness. I know it will be a terrible shock for you as well, as you will lose your only living relative. I know you might feel that you have to rush to my side, but there is no need. It’s too expensive and the trip will mean a strenuous journey, and if you were to try to come by plane, it would be too expensive. We can speak on the telephone whenever we can book a call. I would, of course, love to see you, but as it doesn’t seem possible, we have to simply cherish our memories.

I know you will keep an eye on the family who adopted my little boy, now that you have found out who they are and where they live. All I know is that they named him Frank Doyle and had him baptised in their local Catholic church,just after they had signed all the papers and he became their son. That’s a nice, strong name to grow up with.

I’m so happy he’s getting a good start in life with good parents who will care for him with love and understanding. It would have been miserable for him to grow up as the illegitimate son of a reckless married man and a woman who couldn’t resist a handsome face and a lot of flattery. He told me he loved me and that he’d leave his wife. We would go to England and organise a divorce and then we’d get married over the border in Scotland. He didn’t mean a word of all that, but I believed it because I wanted to. There you go, my full confession after all these years.

I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me. You went to our old teacher, Sister Assumpta, for help and then she did the rest. God bless you for that, darling Martha. You have to continue our mother’s legacy and look after the bookshop and keep the reading group going. It’s the glue that keeps the community together and the village alive, but you already know that.

In any case, I hope this will not be my last letter to you, but one of many before I leave for the next life. Do write often and let me know how the bookshop is doing and what everyone in the reading group is up to. A little gossip makes me smile, as you know.

Until we hear from each other again, I am your loving sister,

Madge

Ciara read those last words and suddenly burst into tears. ‘Oh, it breaks my heart to think of poor Martha, losing her sister so far away, on the other side of the world, dying all alone. And then Dad not knowing and finding out much later that he was adopted. It’s too much to bear.’

Maureen put her arms around her daughter, her tears mingling with Ciara’s. ‘It’s so terribly sad to think about it and reading those words from that brave woman. It breaks my heart to imagine what they both went through.’

‘Mine too,’ Ciara sobbed. She groped in her pocket for a tissue but found nothing to dry her tears. Then she got up and tore another piece of kitchen paper off the roll on the sink, then sank down on the chair again, dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. ‘You know what, Ma?’ she said with determination in her voice. ‘I’m going to try to set up the bookshop exactly like Martha and her mother did. And see if I can’t get a reading group going, even if there are only two people in it. Then anyone who wants to buy the shop as a going concern might want to keep it running. I can ask for extra leave and then get that started. Would you allow me to do just that?’

Maureen stroked Ciara’s hair. ‘Are you sure, pet? I understand how you feel, but it will be hard work, and it might not be very viable in the end.’

‘I don’t care,’ Ciara declared. ‘I can at least try.’

‘That’s all you can do,’ Maureen agreed. ‘And I will be here with you, every step of the way, doing whatever it takes. I’m relieved, at least, that you’re not saying you’re going to quit again…’

‘It’s a bit of a halfway house,’ Ciara said, both cheering up at the thought and secretly hoping her mother would end up wanting to stay in Cherrywood permanently. ‘I’d be keeping Martha’s legacy going and yet not risk everything.’

‘I’m glad you have begun to see sense,’ Maureen said, smiling tenderly. ‘And also that we’re going to honour Martha’s last wishes.’

Ciara kissed her mother on the cheek. ‘Thanks, Ma, for understanding.’

Maureen got up from the chair. ‘And now, if you feed that hound, I’ll start cooking the chicken.’