Great Aunt Mary--Sequel to Secrets

Mary lived a difficult life and when she died it was in dignity...

Mary had quite a difficult childhood, and though was now being considered with lack of dignity, knew herself to have been and to be dignified. No doubt she loved life. However, the joy of living in her family was scarce. There were not often good news coming from the outside world. She had been born not very long before the universal financial crisis, being the year nineteen twenty. She had been an unexpected child, though, there had not been any regret. Her family had been a great one, however, not many of her sibblings had made their way beyond their twenties, mainly because of the war that would arrive nineteen years after she had been brought to life. The tumult in her early years had been exhausting for a young child. When she had reached the age of six, her parents had no logings, for they were out of money. They were payed little for a tiring, twelve hours work in factories. At the time, the number of brothers and sister were exceeding five, most of them not older than twelve. With the few pounds that they owned, a room was being rented. In this room, the ten of them were quite cramped. It could not be afforded to let the children go to school, and the eldests were sent to find jobs whilst the youngest remained behind all day long. For a time, Mary had been one of the left behinds. Her age being of half a dozen, there was not much a young girl that age could do. However, her mother had noticed quite a passion for learning, and intelligence in the girl. Although a mother does not have favorites, or rarely does, Mary's curiosity and quick understanding won her her mother's will for her to be granted to go to school. None of the children, except perhaps the two oldest, had benefited of schooling. When Mary was seven, something quite unexpected happened to her.

" Mary, come here will you ?" her mother had called to her one day, as she was speaking with a couple, in front of a great building.

" Yes mother ?" the little girl had sprung quickly to her side just as any obedient child would have done. Her eyes were sparkling with delight at the idea that she would perhaps be taught how to read and write, and later on, learn the great arts of literature, algebra in mathematics and theories of scientists. Nevertheless, it was not to be as she imagined.

" It is a good thing that I have packed her belongings before coming," her mother was telling the couple. She was smiling but in the way Mary knew to be of nervousness. " She does not have many things with herself, she shan't take up much space." She shuffled, uncomfortable looking down at her daughter.

" Now run along and get your travelling carpet bag." She pushed her daughter toward the car by which they had come to the place. Mary did as she was told. If lessons were to be started straight away, she would be quick. A child's innocence is so that she does not suspect even the darkest deeds to be done in such an insignificant action. As she came running back on her short legs, she noticed however that her mother bore no more a smile, but a troubling expression with her eyebrows turned upwards, her lips tight and her eyelashes moist. " I am going to leave you with this couple Mary, is that allright with you ?"

" Yes mother. It is after all for learning isn't it ?"

" Now darling," the mother lowered herself to her daughter's height. " Don't be angry with me darling Mary," she was buttonning the child's coat. Tears were swelling in her eyes with sorrow to what was to be done.

" Don't cry mother. I'll be allright here for the day," Mary patted her mother's cheek.

" Of course," her mother smiled through the veil of tears.

" You won't be gone long ?"

" I promise I won't be long," Siarah repeated slowly. Then she traightened, and having said a stiff goobye to the young couple, she went away.

 

v        v            v

 

Mary had never seen her mother again, or her blood family. She was heart-broken when at ten years of age, she finally understood that her mother had abandoned her. The couple she had been left with, had been quite good to her, and over time had been close almost as parents would be with a child. They had no children of their own and had loved her and cherished her since the day she had been to their estate. She had been spoken to on the matter being of her mother coming home, for she had asked many questions.

" When is my mother coming to take me home ?" she had asked Katrina, the lady whom took good care of her. Mary had been looking out the window, at the rainy day. The young woman had kneeled beside her to be her height and had looked deep within the girl's eyes.

" I shall be honest with you Mary, though you might regret having asked what you have," she started gravely. The tone of her voice gave the girl's body tingles. Her rigid self had sensed the answer already. " It is only proper to tell you that things are done to give one the chance to be greater than they would have been. However, something has always need to be sacrificed. My dear Mary, you must know that your mother will not be coming back. I am sorry to say this. You are now considered as my child."

" Your child ?"

" To give you what education you need, your mother gave you up," Katrina paused and looked into the girl's eyes a moment, the latter, however, lowered them to her shoes. " I did what I could to convince her that I could bring you back home every end of a month or even a week, and she would hear none of it."

" None of it...?"

" She feared you would assume your brothers and sisters and your own parents to be ignorant."

And so her dear family had indeed abandoned her, and she had been sentenced never to see her dear brothers and sisters again. It was that evening that Mary's heart closed to all but those who were giving her an education. She wouldn't laugh anymore with other children on the street on the way back from school, nor would she sit with anyone during the time of lunch. Her physical self was still the size of a ten years old, however, her mind had become like the adults, very much graver. She was quiet most of the time, and only poured the last bit of her happiness on Katrina and Harry whom she considered as her family. She had become frightening to the other children. Still, she had love left in her.

 

v        v            v

 

Mary grew up, and her beauty did as well. She had ravishing long dark hair, curled on the end, which she began to twist and pile on her head in an elegant fashion near sixteen years of age. She had long eyelashes which covered soft brown eyes. Many noticed her. Not only for her magnificence but for the fact that she had not long ago started to smile again. The happiness had entered her life again, only because John had as well. He often came to visit her family, being the son of a distant friend that Katrina and Harry had not seen for at least nine years. He had a manner of speaking which pleased her, and his trust was all hers, which she was glad. She thought of him as a good friend, wise too, who could help whenever her lack of knowledge obliged her to seek him out. John was kind hearted, and soon became as a brother.

Her studies allowed her to occupy a temporary place as a teacher in a private academy for girls. When she was promoted to such work, she did not see John as much as before. However, they did write letters to each other. On saturdays, they often went for a walk near Ballycastle, John's most favorable place.

One day, they sat on the old ruins, her skirt puffed by the wind. A dress with delicate roses etched all over white satin. It brought out the dark beauty of her hair. John's eyes were sparkling as she spoke of the week's events. And when she laughed, he grinned brightly.

" Might I tell you a secret Mary ?"

" Of course you can," she smiled up to him.

" You do promise you won't laugh, and make fun ?" he asked with his eyes shining, a lock of golden hair falling across them. " And take it seriously ?"

" If you want me too," she replied, moving closer to listen.

" I love you," he said softly. His face was very serious. He had trusted her to keep her word, and was very surprised when at last, she laughed.

 

v        v            v

 

Mary was sitting at her desk when the doorbell rang. It was a long time now that she lived alone in the great house that Harry and Katrina had left her when they had died suddenly as they were on their wedding anniversary upon their boat. It had been two years since John had left for the war in France. He often wrote letters, still, she felt lonely at times. A letter, once more had arrived. How she loved to see John's handwriting, it was as close as she could get to him in such times. She loved to imagine herself with him again, in the ruins of the Ballycastle, what she now called her own favorite place. With great enthusiasm, she opened the envelop which had obviously been sealed in a hurry. It opened easily and she carefully took out the paper which had been folded within. It was dated : October 24th 1943 . She began reading with wholesome commitment which transformed to distress.

 

Dearest Mary, I am writing this to you from my hospital bed. I hope that you were not too worried about not hearing from me. I have been here, so they tell me, for two weeks and it took me another two weeks before I could bring myself to write this letter.

I have been thinking a lot as I lie here, about the war and about myself and about you. I do not know how to say this but I feel that I must do something, must sacrifice something to make up for the horror of the past year. In some strange way, Christ has spoken to me through this carnage.

  My Mary, will you ever forgive me for what I will say ? I know I will hurt you with my lack of hope, and still, I am to prepare you for the worst. I will not make it through this war. I doubt many will. Though, as I have said, here on the bed that shall become my death, I must do something. And so Mary, my last endeavors are in your hands, they are yours to see through as I will not. Don't cry over me my dear. Don't close yourself to the world my love. What I ask is hard of you : do what you can to keep the poor out of the streets. You have told me how it was to be without a home, remember that. That is all I ask of you.

  Now memories fill my mind. The scent of you, Brendan sitting on my lap, the day I told you my love for you. These were times you should remember my Mary. Even out of this unforgiving world, I shall always belong to you. Tell Brendan when he grows up that his father cared dearly for him and his mother.

            Goodbye now Mary. Try to forget me.

                        Yours Forever, John.

 

Mary did not believe her John in the letter. She believed that their son, Brendan, would be scooped up in her lover's arms when he came home at the end of this terrible nightmare. Her hopes were vain. Deep within herself she had always known that John would never set foot again in this house. For some weeks after the letter had arrived, she had been quieter than the usual. Her maid had noticed that she often lay in her bed, weeping on what had been her John's pillow. Mary now held on to Brendan. It was near the fifteenth of November that the fatal letter reached her home. The day was grey, and the country was mourning, the sky was crying, for the dead. She had put the letter with those from John. Gravely, without shedding a tear--for they all had been already spent--she piled the letters neatly and held them together with an elastic band. Calmly, the pushed them away deep within her bureau, trying to hide it from sight and locked it. She vowed, just as her dear John had demanded of her, never to open them again, and hid her past away--for it was past.

Three years old Brendan never lived to know how much his father loved him. He died within months of his mother receiving the letter claiming her husband had died, from pneumonia. And so all that was dear to Mary was buried low in the earth and she was left alone to face the torments of life. Even so, she liked to imagine that perhaps, in another life, John had lifted Brendan affectionnately in his arms on a house's doorstep.

Author's Note

This short story is based on another short story called 'Secrets' by Bernard MacLaverty. 'Secrets' is a short stories that conveys grandiose emotions. I could even risk saying it is my favorite short story ! I hope you enjoy what I wrote on it.