The CBB :: View topic - One Wish (UPDATED 18/11/2010 p.7)

Thanks, Sugar. I'm sorry that William won't be able to meet Gay.

Dead babies can’t just vanish can they?

Still-birth registration began in 1927 to help protect infant life. As well as being an important source of historical information, it gives the parents the opportunity to have their child officially acknowledged and to give him or her a name.

She said it was like putting a cake batter up, everything is fine but sometimes it just sinks in the middle and sometimes you know why and sometimes you don’t.

Sarah has had David taken away. Mollie told me when I went into the common room to find Janet. She’s gone too. She was collected an hour after the baby went. Janet said she was resigned to him being adopted, she thought he’d have a better life, she’s been brainwashed by this place. Jan said her mother never spoke to her either, just pushed into the back of the car and drove off.

Author:	Sugar [ Tue Jun 13, 2006 10:01 pm ]
Post subject:	One Wish (UPDATED 18/11/2010 p.7)
Reposting this from the old board and will update soon. “I don't think that I'll see her again, but we shared a moment that will last till the end.” The radio wasn’t always apt but tonight it just seemed to want to tug at her heartstrings. She shut off the engine and the radio and got slowly out of the car. The summer night was cool with a slight breeze and the smell of flowers filled the air. She loved this place. She hoped she was in time, She had been praying she would be. She had to be. The house stood as it always had overlooking the beach, slightly squat as if a giant had patted it firmly on the head and pushed the base out further than the roof. The house was defiant as if saying it would be there forever. Not so it’s occupant, she was fading fast. She climbed the steps and entered the house quickly and silently. She would see her friend again- just to say goodbye. She thought back over their life together and the adventures they had shared, she remembered them meeting and how welcoming and caring she’d been, she remembered being able to turn to her – they relied on each other – no matter what life threw in their direction, and it hadn’t always been easy. She shuddered violently thinking of those months. But together they had been a comfort to each other through bad times and celebrated when things were wonderful. The elegant lady knew her friend hadn’t been as well thought of as herself but she knew she owed her own success to the love and the kindness of her friend. She had been the overriding support for close on 60 years. She would never be forgotten. The bedroom was dark, lit only by moonlight. She looked out of the window momentarily. The moon laid a carpet of silver from the sky to the sea, across the sea to the beach. Gay called it the fairy’s path. She had found her sanctuary here a long time ago and had come home to die peacefully. Jacynth looked at the tiny woman in the bed breathing and realised it was time to say goodbye. “I.I…” She went over to the bed quickly and knelt beside it holding her head close to her friends “Yes darling I’m close.” She whispered. “It’s ok I knew you wanted to see me, they rang this morning and I came.. I’m here now I won’t leave you,” She held onto the frail thin hand and looked lovingly at Gay. “I wanted to say goodbye …I didn’t want to go and leave you with the pain.” Suddenly she grimaced and Jacynth knew she was in pain. “Don’t talk Gay, don’t strain yourself,” she said quietly. Gay looked at her beseechingly “Please Jac will you do something for me …please” “Yes of course you know that. What is it? Do you want me to get you something?” “No I want you too….” Gay stopped talking and her breathing was shallow and laboured. Jacynth looked at the clock. She had been there 3 hours but it felt like barely 3 minutes. She watched Gay struggle to overcome the wave of pain that had encompassed her. Finally Gay spoke, barely a whisper. “Everyone I loved is in my heart except you and him, they are gone now, I will be gone soon, I feel my strength disappearing with every moment.” Jacynth stroked Gay’s face gently, “Go on I’m listening” Gay took a breath and whispered, “Find him.” Jacynth looked towards the sea and saw the sun beginning to rise. “Who Gay?” she asked gently, more for confirmation than necessity. She had known for a long time, this might happen. Gay didn’t reply at first, then Jacynth heard the slightest murmuring of a whisper. “You know who. Please try just tell him I’m sorry.” Gay lay still against the pillows fighting to hold on but Jacynth knew what she had to do, and she realised it was time to let go and as the sun rose on that summer morning Gay slipped quietly and peacefully from this world into the next knowing that her final wish would be carried out. ********************************************************* Jacynth leaned over and kissed Gays forehead tenderly “I love you Gay darling. Thank you for being my backbone” She whispered quietly. She heard the clock ticking on the dressing table unaware of the changes that had taken place. She noted the time, the doctor would need to know, but why it mattered she had never been sure. She went over to the window and watched the sun rise slowly, deep in thought. She would miss Gay sorely. After sitting awhile she stirred herself and went to the small old-fashioned kitchen to make a drink. Barely 6 am too early to call the doctor. She knew she had to phone Switzerland too. Jack would need to know; despite everything technically she was family and Gay’s next of kin. She knew Jack had been aware of her aunt’s illness but she had chosen to attend a school reunion in Switzerland to celebrate 80 years and she had chosen to do this whilst her aunt was dying. No wonder Gay had felt so alone. Jacynth shook herself, criticising Jack over her actions would not help and Gay had known the lie of the land for a long time. She sat thinking about Gay’s final request. “Find him tell him I’m sorry.” she heard Gay’s whisper in her mind Jacynth sighed and hoped Gay had left some instructions with her solicitor, she knew there was a will, she had made sure of that so Gay did not die in testate, primarily because she knew that the law would not accede to Gay’s wishes. She just prayed she would be able to find him and that it would be the right thing to do for everyone involved. Suddenly the phone rang, snapping her out of her thoughts and she answered it quickly. “Hello, Bluebell Cottage …Oh hello Doctor…not she hasn’t …about an hour ago … yes certainly … I’ll be here” Jacynth placed the receiver down and waited for the doctor to arrive. She heard Dr McPherson walking up the garden path a few minutes later, the gravel crunching underfoot and let him in. She showed him into the main bedroom and withdrew quietly. It was time to phone Switzerland. She was connected swiftly through to the hotel in Interlaken, where the reunion was being held and the receptionist found Jack O’Connor quickly. “Jack it’s Jacynth, I’m sorry to disturb you so early but your Aunt Gay died peacefully a few hours ago at the cottage.” Jacynth heard a low moan “Jack sweetheart I’ll arrange everything and be in touch soon. I must go” With that Jacynth hung up the phone, her smoke-grey eyes overflowed and she let the salty tears slide down her cheeks. Gay was gone. ********************************************************** The sunlight streamed through the stain glass windows of the 18th Century church onto the simple casket that was resting before the altar. Everything was still; even outside it was as if everything had stopped to pay its respects to Gay Lambert. There was a rustle in the congregation as Michael came forward to read the eulogy. Jacynth smiled, she remembered Michael as a small boy terrorising the village with his water pistol in the summer and sitting in his garden as a teen with his Walkman blaring some strange music. Gay had said he would go deaf. Jacynth had said he’d more likely go to prison. They had both been wrong. Jacynth listened as he spoke. “I hoped I’d never have to do this… I thought Aunty Gay would live next door to us forever. You never think your neighbours are people when you’re a child but over the last few years I got to know Gabrielle Lambert as a real person. I heard stories of her life, her time in China, running away from school, her friendship with Jacynth He smiled at Jacynth “I heard her talking about her hopes her wishes her desires and she encouraged me to talk about mine. She encouraged me to grow into the person I am today, she believed in me. She believed in lots of people. She gave me my dreams. I could talk about Gay forever. She was lovely but I know each and every one of you knew a different Gay to the Gay I knew. Maybe you knew her because she was a family member,” He looked at Jack and her family sitting on the opposite side of the church to Jacynth. “Or you went to school with her or you lived in the village here with us and you saw her pottering in her garden and opening the fete for us. However you knew her you were lucky. Gay had a poem she liked she taught it me as a child. I’d like to share it. Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams. Thank You Aunty Gay for being part of my life and loving me.” With this, Michael’s face crumpled and he hurried back to the pew where his family were sitting. Within minutes the funeral was over: the coffin was carried out of the church to a modern variation of Pachelbel’s Cannon D, which had been a favourite of Gays, and the congregation were in the small beautifully tended churchyard watching the body of Gabrielle Lambert be placed gently into the ground. Jacynth knew that Gay had wanted an environmentally friendly burial or as she called it “one of those green funerals where you get shoved in a cardboard box and you feed a tree” but Gay knew that she should be buried within the churchyard. Jacynth would arrange a small headstone at the right time engraved with “Gabrielle (Gay) Lambert November 1st 1928 – July 22nd 2005” and a small cello drawn in the corner and maybe a tree. There would be space for her here too one day.

Author:	Kat [ Tue Jun 13, 2006 10:40 pm ]
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I missed this the first time, but it's beautiful and I hope you post more soon

Author:	KathrynW [ Tue Jun 13, 2006 10:47 pm ]
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I too missed this first time round but it's beautiful, thank you. Kathryn

Author:	Sugar [ Tue Jun 13, 2006 10:52 pm ]
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Thanks Kat. Next bit. “Oh drat and bother it!” A gust of wind sent the piles of paperwork onto the floor. Jacynth groaned wishing Gay had been more organised but she had never been a tidy creature at school, and she hadn’t changed, that much was evident if you looked around bluebell cottage. The dresser in the kitchen was jammed haphazardly with any number of ornaments and books and the kitchen table was generally covered in at least one week’s supply of newspapers and accompanying flyers. The windowsill displayed a collection of shells from Gays walks along the beach. She bent down to retrieve the paperwork. Maybe today wasn’t going to be the day to sort through the paperwork and drawers; she would have as long as she needed. The house had been left to her to do with as she wished. As she reached up to put the piles of old correspondence on the table, she saw a small figure standing in the middle of the kitchen. “Where’s Aunty Gay then ?” Jacynth recognised the little girl from the funeral “Hello Aisling Aunty Gay isn’t here anymore. Where’s mummy and Joseph?” The little girl shook her head. “I comed, mummy’s not here or Joe,” Jacynth stood up and was wondering just exactly where she had come from and what she was meant to do with her, when the kitchen door creaked open and small boy’s head poked around it. “Mummmmmmmmy I got her!” He yelled at full pitch. “She’s with that old lady.” He came into the room. “Mum’s gonna to kill you Ash.” The boy looked about 6 and shared his sister’s silvery colouring but whereas she had golden ringlets and freckles, he had short spiky hair. However, they both shared periwinkle blue eyes and indeed Aisling was a miniature version of her Great Aunt Gay, angelic looking but obviously not angelic in nature. Just then her mother arrived. “Aisling Ramsay! What on earth are you playing at… running off like that …. Hello Jacynth thanks for holding on her!” She scooped her daughter up into a hug and Jacynth smiled. Claire was as different from her mother as could possibly be imagined. Jacynth thought back to the hours after the funeral when people were giving their condolences to Jack who seemed unable to shake off her irritation at her estranged Aunt dying at a most inconvenient time. Luckily her daughter Claire seemed slightly more sympathetic, although she had never known Gay personally. However, Claire was aware of how guilty Jack was feeling for not having spent more time with Gay in the last few years and inside she had been feeling confused and her brusque manner was merely a façade. “How’s the tidying going Jacynth? Is there anything I can do to help?” Jacynth laughed, “Can you hire me a skip? Gay kept the most inessential rubbish but can I find the gas bill or the phone bill?” Claire laughed, “I obviously inherited my love of organised chaos from Aunty Gay. I remember not being to find anything important after Will died.” Jacynth saw a flicker of sadness flash across Claire’s face. She had only been widowed two years but she seemed to be bearing up well. Jacynth accepted Claire’s offer of help and with the children playing safely in the garden under strict instructions not to wonder off they set to it and managed to clear a considerable amount of junk from both the kitchen and the sitting room. *************************************************** 26th July 2005 9:40pm I’m sitting here feeling bewildered, Aunty Gay is dead. Her funeral was this morning, in the village church. I’d never been in it before despite spending time living with Aunt Gay after I finished at the Chalet School. It was a beautiful church and the weather was just as Gay would have wanted, warm with a slight breeze coming off the sea. I don’t know how I’m feeling anymore. She’s gone and I never got chance to say goodbye. I had the opportunity, I could have gone to Bluebell Cottage before I went to Interlaken or I could have said that I wasn’t going to the reunion but it felt nice to be invited. I felt wanted but now I feel like I have made the biggest mistake. I will never forgive myself for not making my peace with Gay. I didn’t feel ready though. I wouldn’t have known what to say. Forty-three years is a long time to not talk to someone except for the bare essentials. I put on a brave face at the church; I was not going to let Jacynth Hardy see how devastated I was. I so nearly lost it when they lowered her into the ground but I couldn’t show it. Just because I fell out with Gay that summer all those years ago, doesn’t mean I’m not entitled to grieve, but I wasn’t letting the world see that. I think Claire realised, she said all the right things to the right people, she’s good like that she can hold herself together. I put the shutters up to stop my emotion and my regret overflowing and I must have seemed like a hardhearted cow. I’m not I was hurting at loosing her, just like everyone else but I lost the Aunty Gay I knew all those years ago. It was the first summer we spent here Gay had come home to start a new life, a young widow who had lost her twin girls and her handsome husband in a car crash not long after they had settled in Melbourne. Some maniac had driven into them at high speed and Uncle Terence and Jill had died instantly, little Ruth had spent a week unconscious and irresponsive, neither in this world or the next and then her body finally stopped fighting and she was buried with her sister, along side their father in the municipal cemetery. Aunty Gay had come home to grieve and had intended to put the past behind her. I think she may well have done so for a few years and it would have stayed there, had I not been 18 years old and interested in her life when I came to stay the summer I left school. Jack O’Connor capped her pen and snapped her diary shut and returned to its place, alongside her other diaries on the low pine bookshelf under the window in her study. She stared at the picture on her desk. I’m sorry Aunty Gay. I just wanted you to be perfect. ************************************************* After Claire and the children left with promises to return if necessary Jacynth made herself a strong black coffee and some scrambled eggs, which she ate with warm buttered toast. Claire had tidied the old correspondence that Gay had kept and left them on the table. Jacynth wished she had put them in the old shoebox she had found because now she left they were looking at her, almost daring her to read them. She picked up the pile, fragile envelopes, some with faded writing from being left in the sun, but all treasured by Gay. Letters from Ruth and Tommy, Jo Bettany, Gill Culver and obviously letters from herself. These envelopes did not need opening Jacynth knew the sender from the handwriting. Neither did they need reading there was nothing in the letters that Gay wouldn’t have told her. Jacynth wondered for a quick moment why Jo Maynard had written to Gay. Jacynth had never been quite at ease with Jo, she had been caring when Aunt Mary had died, but there was just something in her manner that had rankled Jacynth. Curiosity got the better of Jacynth finally and she looked closely at the postmark. It was faint and smeared and doubtful it would have readable at the time. Jacynth flipped it over to see where Jo had been writing from. Freudesheim Gornetz Platz Interlaken Swizerland. It was probably some long missile from Joey detailing the latest adventures of the Middles at the Chalet School. Jo had clung to the Chalet School in an alarming way and which most Old Girls thought was a tad unusual but it was better to keep those sorts of opinions to oneself or ones closest friends. It was possibly that or it was another announcement of a recent birth of one of Joey’s children. Jacynth eased the letter out of the envelope. It was written on pale blue paper in a blue fountain pen and seemed to have been read many times. It was dated March 1952. Jacynth felt sick. ************************************************** Jacynth steeled herself. Gay couldn’t have told Jo. Surely if she had the entire world would have known. Joey wasn’t exactly one for keeping information close to her chest. She read the letter. 18th March 1952 Dearest Gay, How are you? I’m writing to try and change your mind about the School’s Coming of Age celebrations in the summer. Rosalie Dene came over for Kaffee und Kunchen yesterday and said she had a reply saying you would be unable to make it but giving no reasons. It would be so lovely to see you Jacynth put the letter back into the envelope. Jo hadn’t known. Not many people had at the time. Fewer since, Gay had learnt from the reaction of Jack that sometimes it was better not to tell those who loved you about some things especially if those things were important to you. Jacynth had known though and now she had to try and sort the problem out. She went outside and sat on the wrought iron chair under the beech tree and remembered the day when she had been told. “Hello Jacynth Hardy speaking” “Jacynth it’s me” “Hello Gay I was wondering if you might ring today” “You’ve had post from Switzerland then” Gay sounded glum “Yes doesn’t it sound like a hoot? We could go, the three of us!” “I can’t” “Is it the fare Gay? I can treat you to it.” “No I just can’t go” “Why ever not, Don’t be silly, it’ll be fun” “I can’t Jac … I can’t go anywhere… I’ve fallen” “God Gay are you ok ? Did you hurt your wrist? And that won’t stop us going to Interlaken” “No Jacynth ..” “but…” “Jacynth ….I didn’t fall over” Jacynth shivered as she remembered the realisation of what Gay was telling her. “Gay …….. you’re not…..how” “ I am and I don’t know what to do!” “I’ll be in the coffee shop in 10 minutes Gay. Will you meet me?” “OK.” It was a short walk to the coffee shop we often met in. A small homely place run by an Italian couple: Fabrizio and Maria. Gay was there already, drinking strong coffee and pushing an almond bun around her plate. As I pushed open the door she looked up at me absolute terror on her face. I quickly hugged her and told her everything was going to be all right, although how I was going to make it all right I had no inkling. ************************************************** Jacynth shut the heavy door behind her and walked away from the offices with a jiffy bag. Her instructions had been to open it when she was back in the village. The solicitor had been a young man, young in her eyes anyway, 35 maybe but very much the solicitor. His letter had arrived that morning, requesting Miss Hardy come to his offices and retrieve a parcel left in his care by the late Miss Gabrielle Lambert. She hurried home. As the rain battered against the glass roof of the lean-to at the back of the house Jacynth looked at the grainy photograph, old, tattered and much loved. She could just make him out but it would be no good as a tool for tracing him now. He would have changed beyond all recognition. It was not what she expected to find when she opened the envelope, she wasn’t overly sure what she had expected but it wasn’t this. There were other things in the envelope too. Another photograph showed Gay and two small girls on the beach. It was small though, no more than 3 inches squared. There was something scrawled on the back in biro. Summer 1954. They looked so happy, a family playing on the beach but fate had decided it was not to be. The children had been killed in a car crash with Gay’s husband in the autumn of 1954. Gay had come home, for a holiday she said and we both came to the cottage here as an idyllic respite from the real world. What I did not realise but Gay did was that she was never going to leave. No one remembered Gay as a young grieving widow but as Gay Lambert an integral part of village life. Jacynth skimmed over the other documents, deeds and certificates and other documental paraphernalia that a 76-year-old woman would have collected. However, it did not contain the elusive phone bill. Jacynth’s hand rested on an old exercise book. Dark red, tatty and crumpled as if it had had water splattered on it. Gabrielle Lambert was written in Gay’s distinctive hand on the front. Jacynth was perplexed. It wasn’t a Chalet School exercise book; they had been of a different style. Jacynth opened it. She realised as she glanced at the clear angled writing that this wasn’t an old school book kept for prosperity. This was Gay’s diary. *************************************************** June 3rd 1952 I arrived a few days ago. I want to go home. I don’t want to be here. They said I couldn’t keep my book to write: asked why I would want to, laughed when I told them I wanted to write down what happened and how I felt. One of them said did I write down what happened and how I felt when I was ruining my life. The other looked at me sadly. She bought me this exercise book this morning and a biro and said I must keep them under my bed out of sight. She told me her name was Elizabeth but not to let on that I knew. I’m writing this in the bathroom. I thought it was the one place I might be allowed some privacy. The rules and regulations of which there are many have changed now though. I have been here 4 days. I am in a different category now. Visits to the bathroom are granted with permission but it depends who you ask and what mood they are in. I never thought visiting the bathroom whenever I needed to and being given privacy was a privilege before. Obviously it is but this is not the real world. Jacynth turned the page.

Author:	Kat [ Tue Jun 13, 2006 11:01 pm ]
Post subject:
You're welcome, and thank you!

The CBB http://www.the-cbb.co.uk/

One Wish (UPDATED 18/11/2010 p.7) http://www.the-cbb.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=14&t=662

Author:	Mia [ Wed Jun 14, 2006 3:49 pm ]
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I really liked this one, so pleased to see it back! It's so sad...

Author:	Kat [ Wed Jun 14, 2006 4:12 pm ]
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Have re-read (you know how asleep I was last night!!), and it's so beautiful. I want to hug Gay, and Jacynth and tell Jack that she's allowed to let her mask slip and let the tears fall. hugs them all

Author:	LizB [ Wed Jun 14, 2006 4:16 pm ]
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Glad to see this back Thanks Sugar

Author:	KathrynW [ Wed Jun 14, 2006 4:58 pm ]
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Thank you Sugar.

Author:	Chalet_school_lover [ Wed Jun 14, 2006 5:02 pm ]
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This is beautiful! I was nearly crying at some bits! This is the first time I've read this and it is utterly wonderful, please carry on. Thank you!

Author:	Fatima [ Wed Jun 14, 2006 5:35 pm ]
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It's lovely to see this back, as I really enjoyed it on the old board. Thanks, Sugarplum.

Author:	patmac [ Wed Jun 14, 2006 6:02 pm ]
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It's lovely to see this back, Sugar! Poor Gay!

Author:	Sugar [ Wed Jun 14, 2006 7:24 pm ]
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Thanks for the comments. Here's the next bit. The room was stuffy, one tiny window was open but it was doing little to affect the atmosphere. Three people were busily peering at the screens in front of them, trying she presumed to piece together their own mystery. The assistant loaded the microfiche with the film and explained briefly how to use it and suggested Jacynth worked backward. Jacynth took a deep breath. She squinted at the screen, the white old-fashioned type was blurry and she wasn’t sure exactly what she was supposed to be looking for. She had to do this but she wasn’t overly sure where to start. Perhaps her uncertainty was written because a cheerful young woman came over to her. “You’re looking a bit confused?” she said kindly “I am a bit.” replied Jacynth. “What are you looking for?” “I want to try and find out if someone is dead.” said Jacynth “You’re not sure?” “I have no idea, I could have walked past him on the way in or he might have been dead for years. I just don’t know.” “You’ve got a name?” “Yes” said Jacynth “that’s about all I do have, except he was married.” “but you have no idea of any time frame?” “He was alive in the 50’s, he might still be” “Crikey you could be in here all week” she looked thoughtful. “Tell me to mind my business but if you give me his name I’ll see what I can do.” Sally explained to Jacynth that there was a website she had access to that would let her search approximately the last 20 years of deaths registered in the UK, rather than Jacynth having to browse through the Indexes herself. Unfortunately the library didn’t offer internet access in the archives and she was right in presuming that Jacynth had no access elsewhere. Jacynth gave the name and arranged to go for a coffee and return in an hour. ******************************************************** As Jacynth left the building Sally clicked in to the website and entered the details. She knew it was a wild attempt but the elderly lady had seemed so desperate. Sally wondered what the connection between them was. She found it fascinating working, sometimes you almost saw into a persons soul when they were searching for details on the General Registers of Births Deaths and Marriages. The website sprang to life. It had one entry. She tapped in the library password to view the details and printed out a copy. She wondered just how the news would be received. Meanwhile, Jacynth was sitting outside the nearest café, slightly regretting her decision. Would it be better not to know? Why should she care if Steven was dead? He didn’t care about Gay after all. It was all part of the puzzle though and maybe he could help to unravel it. Jacynth sipped her coffee thoughtfully, she knew there was little change he had been contacted over the years and she wasn’t sure why she was really searching for him. Part of her wanted him to be alive so she could find him and talk to him but another part of her wanted him to be dead. Why should he be alive when Gay was dead. She drained her coffee and took a slow walk through the city centre to the tall building that housed the local archives. Sally smiled, “I have a result for you” “You do ?” All colour drained from Jacynth’s face and she felt faint. Sally waved Jacynth into a seat “Yes …Steven Bennett born 1923 died September 1985 aged 62 years” “He’s dead.” Jacynth sighed “I don’t know whether I wanted him to be or not.” “Was he your boyfriend?” Curiosity had got the better of Sally. “No … I don’t even think he was hers. He was just the father of her baby.” ************************************************** The phone was ringing. Loudly. Jacynth answered it whilst wondering not for the first time whether Gay had been going deaf because the phone was terrifyingly loud. “Hello Bluebell Cottage.” Jacynth rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the clock on the dresser. 8.01am. Who on earth was ringing this early? “Hi Jacynth” Michael’s voice boomed “Hello Michael, what are you ringing this early and why are you ringing at all?” “Didn’t want to hammer on the door this early, thought I might wake the neighbours” Jacynth sighed, “Michael you are the neighbours and this phone could wake the entire village Gay has it set that loud.” “What’s the matter anyway?” Jacynth was grumpy. She hated being woken by bells. “Just wondered if you were ok, that’s all…. saw you walking alone on the beach last night.” “Yes I’m fine. Thanks. Was just thinking that’s all.” She hung up and padded downstairs and pottered about in the kitchen, electing to use the electric kettle and toaster rather than Gay’s aga. Sitting at the kitchen table, munching her toast and jam and drinking her Columbian black coffee without which she was loath to start the day, Jacynth opened Gay’s diary and read the next entry. Sunday Last night was my first one. It was terrifying. Mary was screaming like a banshee until one of the others effectively silenced her by putting a flannel in her mouth. A girl with a short untidy head of hair, someone said she had a long plait of dark chestnut when they saw her arrive, by the time she was brought upstairs she had lost her plait. It reminded me of the tale they used to tell at school of Simone Lecoutier chopping off her hair to make Jo Bettany like her. Somehow I doubt Mary had volunteered to have her hair hacked off brutally like that and I doubt she was worrying about her hair now. Her scream woke us. I’d defy anyone to sleep through it. I glanced at my watch. Midnight almost. I wish my bed wasn’t next to the window or that I’d known what the candle was or someone had explained what it meant to me. Betty had asked me if I could see the candle. I felt such an idiot not having any idea what candle she meant or where I was looking for it. Luckily she knew I was new and she must have seen I was absolutely petrified. I had no idea what was going on. I worked out the candle was important on nights like this though. A crowd had gathered on the empty bed opposite mine underneath the other window. Peering out into the dark, mumbling something I couldn’t quite make out. I stayed on my bed, sitting with my knees under my chin and hugged them. The mumbling by the window became clearer and almost begging. It became a mantra: “C’mon please. Hurry up! Hurry please… please come.” Meanwhile Mary was getting more agitated by the minute and had taken to writhing uncontrollably every few minutes while two girls held her hands and Betty rubbed her tummy. The scene stayed like this for a few minutes when suddenly one of the girls on the bed jumped up and looked at Mary in alarm. Within seconds she was at the door. “The candle’s not lit, we must tell them!” she said plaintively. “Tell them … Janet, are you totally crackers?” I heard Mollie above the general outcry. “We must!” And Janet was gone. It was like a signal. Everyone went back to her bed but Betty, who stayed with Mary, rubbing her tummy and trying to get her calm. Betty brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up at me and smiled. I smiled weakly at he, aware that my eyes must have almost been popping out of my head. Next thing the lights were snapped on and the room was full and Mary was being prodded poked and shouted at. The screen was pulled around her bed and she was hidden from view. Her screams suddenly got worse and we heard her pleading “noooo please.” My mind was imagining a million things, I don’t know what they did but Mary was quieter from then. Suddenly Elizabeth, the nice one came in and the atmosphere was slightly different but I can’t explain it. Within minutes there was a different type of scream and Betty yelled across her bed where she had been sent. “Mary you still with us?” Silence. “Elizabeth Clayton be quiet this instant” the ordered was barked out and Betty pulled a face knowing she couldn’t be seen. Everyone looked downcast and knew better than to ask again. Elizabeth slipped out between the screen and the next sound I heard was a hairbrush clattering loudly to the floor. I saw Betty punch the air with delight. I presumed Mary had made it. I was right. This morning Mary left our room. She’s in the next room now. It is only different because she has a box screwed to her footboard where her baby is kept. ********************************************************* 16th June 1952 It’s so hot I think I am being boiled alive. Today when it was quiet I asked Betty about the candle. There had been lots of activity this morning in the other room. Mollie had been watching the main door and the driveway all morning. The common room for room 1 had a good view. Room 2’s common room faced the back of the house. Deliberately. When the car pulled up Mollie shot across the corridor into the opposite room and shot back as fast. Betty had come over to where I was reading one of the carefully vetted books and asked if I was ok and I plucked up courage to ask her about the candle. She told me Elizabeth was a trained nurse and she worked her not through choice but through necessity and she actually cared about the girl’s welfare, unlike the others who were cold-hearted unemotional women who believed we deserved to burn in the fires of hell for our actions. The candle, Betty explained was a signal that Elizabeth had set up to let the girls know that she was in her room and would be available if needed for any reason throughout the night. If the candle was not lit, as on the night that Mary was bad, it meant Elizabeth was out. On that night, it turned out she had gone to dance in the town with a couple of other girls who worked in the area. It was infinitely better; it seemed to need help when the candle was burning than when it wasn’t. I hope the candle is lit on my night.

Author:	LizB [ Wed Jun 14, 2006 8:12 pm ]
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So sad - those poor, poor girls

Author:	Rosy-Jess [ Sat Jun 17, 2006 10:43 am ]
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I'd forgotten this one. It's wonderful. So sad, yet always a tinge of hope. Thankyou!

Author:	Kat [ Thu Jun 15, 2006 2:11 pm ]
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Thank you, Sugar.

Author:	Sugar [ Thu Jun 15, 2006 9:42 pm ]
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Bit more reposted Claire’s hands were clasped around her cup as if she was gaining warmth from the liquid inside, but the tea was cold. She hadn’t moved for a long while, just sitting listening, learning and trying to comprehend. It didn’t make sense. She had only popped into give the cards that the churchwarden had removed from the flowers. The two women were deep in conversation when she popped her head through the kitchen door. She hadn’t been expecting this. She tried to concentrate on what they were saying. “So the first thing I knew was when a letter arrived….” “And I didn’t know till afterwards when it was all over…” interjected the other woman. “Who’s telling this yarn?” “You, but I was just saying!” “I’d persuaded her to go to the doctors, I blamed myself for months afterwards, that it was my fault that she had to go through that ordeal by herself because I suggested she went to the doctors to find out for definite. The doctor decided in his infinite wisdom how things should be and Gay was packed off that very day. I was never so worried in my life when she never came home from the doctors. The letter arrived a month or so later…I still have it somewhere at home…. saying that she had been sent to St Anne’s Unmarried Mother’s Home. The letter had been censored in places in the same sort of way I imagined the Soviets had censored the letters from behind the iron curtain. The Soviets were more thorough though I presumed. The town name was scrubbed out in thick black pen on one place but in another it had been missed completely. She said she could only write once because she had begged a stamp off one girl and an envelope off another. I remember she sounded so scared and alone and said she would be home one day and to please pray for her. She didn’t say much about the place really, but I could read between the lines. Usually letters from Gay were jolly affairs and you could almost hear her voice and her laughter coming off the paper at you. This was a different Gay.” Claire swore mildly under her breath and then apologised profusely. Gill smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s a big shock” “Isn’t it just!” Claire’s Irish lilt was stronger than usual. “I can understand Mam’s reaction to the news, she is very moral but I can not believe she kept it from me and kept me from Aunty Gay because of it! She wasn’t a leper for goodness sake!” Claire’s distress was etched in her face. Jacynth explained that the father of Gay’s baby was a married man but that Gay was not aware of this and obviously she was left without the option of marriage. Jacynth told them both that Steven was dead and her reason for checking was in case he was alive and might be able to shred some light on the issues but alas this was impossible. Gill took Claire’s hand gently. “So this baby …he’s my cousin?” she asked. “First cousin once removed actually” replied Gill. “As if it matters,” Jacynth laughed at Gill. “Anyway how do you know that?” “I’m full of useless information! You should know that!” “You’re right Aunty Jacynth, family is family at the end of the day.” Claire said quietly “Aunty Jacynth?” Jacynth queried gently “You don’t mind do you?” Asked Claire fearfully “It just feels right somehow. I can’t explain it.” “No of course I don’t mind sweetheart, I’m honoured.” Jacynth smiled at Claire. “The baby..Her baby..Where is he?” Claire asked “I don’t know,” replied Jacynth sadly. “Not sure how to even start looking for him. Gay always hoped that he would try and find her but as far as I know he never has.” “We have to find him for Aunty Gay” “We can but try.” ************************************************* To Aunty Gay With love, Robert Mary and the girls Aunty Gay, As one door closes, another door opens Love from Anne Peter and James Dearest Gay, Thank you for everything. Watch over us, Thomas Lizzie and Michael Darling Gay What more can I say but THANK YOU – love Jacynth Gay Lambert, RIP. Peggy Bride Maeve and Daphne (Bettany) Gay Lambert – A good friend. You will be missed. Gill xxx Gay, Rest in Peace with Our Lord. the congregation of St Chad’s Gay, Safe in heaven. Thank you for your friendship. Betty Clayton-Morley and family They spread the cards out on the table. Betty Clayton-Morley. The name rang a bell but Jacynth couldn’t place it. She turned to the others. “Any idea who Betty is? “Not the foggiest, sorry” replied the older woman. “Think” After the emotional conversations of yesterday the three women had met for lunch in Bluebell Cottage. Jacynth had been to local deli in the village and bought stuffed olives, feta cheese, Italian ciabatta bread and some cured meat, as well as a cheese board and a selection of salads in pots. The three women had been talking for over an hour, about their lives Jacynth and Gillian telling Claire stories about Gay and her life and Claire telling them about her childhood. “Who is Robert?” asked Gill as she popped an olive in her mouth “Uncle Robert, he lives in New York.” Claire explained. Jacynth laughed. I remember Bobby. He was at the station with Ruth and Tommy the day I met Gay for the first time. He had the important job of holding onto Nan, who wanted to wriggle as all babies do when being held by their big brother. What happened to Anne? I noticed she wasn’t at the funeral service and I meant to ask but it slipped my mind.” “Her and Uncle Peter retired to Spain. They have a villa somewhere and their son James is travelling around South America or he was the last time Mam heard anything from Aunty Anne.” There was silence for a few moments while the women finished eating and then Jacynth got up and wondered outside mumbling to herself. Gillian and Claire cleared away watching Jacynth walking around the garden. ********************************************************** They watched Jacynths face contorted with pain, as she re-joined them at the table. “I was so worried about Gay. I nearly made myself ill. She was so good to me when Aunty Mary died and with the cello and everything. I decided to go and ask if they would let me see her. I had no idea whether I could or not but I thought it was worth a try. I remember feeling sick to the stomach on the journey, the train was stifling. It wasn’t a day to be indoors, least of all travelling over 100 miles. The train station was big and busy but I clutched bag with the address in and my purse. I hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take me to my destination. I remember he looked at me strangely and asked if I was going in? I told him I was going to see my friend and he advised me to say she was my sister. There was no chance they would believe Gay and I were sisters. Her vivid colouring and my straight black hair and bland grey eyes did not lend themselves to sisterhood so I decided to be a cousin. The journey didn’t take many minutes and the driver left me to my thoughts. The building was large drab and grey, with gables and large bay windows on four storey’s and tiny attic windows half hidden in the eaves. Most of the exterior was covered in ivy and climbing plants. It was set back from the road and it looked very foreboding. I pulled heavily on the rope dangling from the big bell by the door and waited feeling so scared. Eventually the door opened and a large lady stood there looking at me critically. She was sharp with me and it seemed she thought I was a new girl and I hastily informed her that I was hoping to visit my cousin Gay Lambert. I was ushered into a dark hallway and waited as the women told someone else who I was. I prayed so hard that Gay hadn’t told them that she had no cousins. Finally I was ushered into a small room and told to wait. The woman explained that [i]“Family Visits” were only usually permitted on Sundays by prior arrangement but as I had travelled a distance they were making an exception. I was never so grateful to anyone. The room had a small window, crisscrossed with lead, apple green walls and parquet flooring. I sat and waited for Gay to be brought to me. I must admit when I saw Gay I nearly passed out. She was dressed in a grey dress, which was more like a sack and her tummy was clearly visible and her hair was limp and dull and she looked like a zombie. I hugged her and touched her tummy gently. We talked for a long time. She talked of two girls there, one who had her baby and her mother came and took her home. That was the first time her face lit up. I knew this wasn’t an option for Gay though. I knew Steven was married, with young family. I wasn’t sure if Gay knew that but I didn’t tell her because I didn’t want her sinking further into the depths of despair. She was like a shell as if her personality had been removed at the door. Where was the lively vivacious girl I knew? She told me of a girl who had stayed here a long time because her family hadn’t collected her. I really struggled with what she was trying to tell me, it was apparent she was trying to tell me something about going home. When my visiting time was up Gay hugged me like she was scared to let go and she had to be prised off me by the young girl who was on sentinel duty. Gay started screaming, “Don’t go… Don’t go… Don’t leave me.” But soon she was surrounded and we were separated by the staff and Gay was half carried half pulled down the corridor. Her pleas were awful and I was so helpless. A stern faced woman ushered me out and I asked her when I could pick Gay up. She told me it would be autumn before Gay would be ready to leave. I asked to make another family visit for Gay the next month. The woman shook her head and refused. Apparently, it would do Gay no good to work herself up like that at the end of every visit.” [/i] Jacynth shook herself as if bringing herself back to the present. “Betty Clayton was a girl at … at that place with Gay. Gay wrote about her in her diary. I knew I recognised the name. She obviously kept in touch with her after she came home.” Gill frowned. “She might be able to help us.”

Author:	KathrynW [ Thu Jun 15, 2006 9:48 pm ]
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Thank you Sugar, this is very moving. Poor Gay, it must have been so difficult for her Kathryn

Author:	Ruth B [ Fri Jun 16, 2006 12:20 am ]
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poor poor Gay! Name Betty Clayton is ringing bells with me. Intrigued to know why.

Author:	francesn [ Fri Jun 16, 2006 12:41 pm ]
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I did love this on the old board - wonderful to see it back. Thanks Sugar

Author:	Sugar [ Fri Jun 16, 2006 9:43 pm ]
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Thank you for all the comments. Lots still to repost but the bunny's been biting so lots of new posts too! 3rd July 1952 What a day! I was sitting with Barbara and Janet doing a jigsaw yet again this afternoon when Jane came in and called over to me that I was “wanted” by Sister in the office. The room stopped and I thought I might be sick. Betty came over and told me not to worry and sent me on my way. As I left the room, shaking and searching my conscience for the reasons for a summons, I remembered Jane and ran back to hug Betty and whispered in her ear, “If I don’t come back…. under mattress… destroy it.” Betty gave me a strange look and said loudly. “See you in a minute Gay you silly thing.” She was right I did come back. I walked along the main corridor petrified, knocked on the office door and waited for permission to enter. When I got in there She said my cousin Jacynth was here. I hope my face didn’t show my excitement too much. I was so happy I felt like I might explode. She ushered me into a small room and one of the younger nurses followed and sat in the corner. I presume she was present as a chaperone. Jacyth lept up and hugged me tightly and her hand rested on my stomach tenderly. She looked so smart and I felt so shabby in my pale blue regulation dress and black house shoes. The dress looks greyer than blue and I just felt shabby. We sat and chatted for a long time and I told her about life in here in general terms. It wouldn’t help to have her realise what a meagre existence we had here and how terrified we all were. I told her about Jane having her baby last week and just as it was going to be taken away Jane’s mum came and demanded to take Jane and her baby home. We have no idea how she managed it but Jane left with her mum and her baby wrapped in a yellow blanket. I remember she looked up at our window as she left. It was an amazing day and fills us with hope but it’s a thin dream for most of us. Maybe Steven will come. I told her about one girl who had to wait here months afterwards until her family collected her. I hope she grasped that I was trying to tell her that I would be stuck here unless she came to claim me. Jacynth held my hand tightly. I think she realised that I really didn’t want to talk about the imminent future so we spent time talking about the old days. We spent ages reminiscing about Miss Bubb and Jac’s first term at the Chalet School when I ran away and everything. It made me feel a bit better. I could forget the mess I am in for a while and let my head be transported into the past. When it was time for her to go I hugged her tightly and wouldn’t let her go. What if I never see her again? What if I never get home? ********************************************************** “How do you find someone if you don’t know their name?” Jacynth had decided to try and get some help from the local archives centre to trace the baby. She had managed to track Betty Clayton –Morely down through directory enquires and she was coming to meet her tomorrow. But Jacynth wanted to know what she was facing before she faced it. Sally was used to strange requests at the helpdesk but this was one of the strangest. She looked up from her paperwork and smiled at Jacynth. “Do you keep your complicated queries for me?” “Sorry Sally. But I knew you weren’t likely to think I was some dotty old dear who has lost her wits!” “I have to say your search is intriguing me somewhat…and you aren’t just a person hunter.” Jacynth looked puzzled “I mean you aren’t someone who is looking for the birth marriage and death of great Aunty Flo who was born in 1839! It seems what you are looking for may well have an impact on someone’s life.” “It could have … if I find them and it’s a great big if!” “I’ll help if I can, without prying unnecessarily but I do need to know what angle you are coming from. I hate to be so blunt but its nigh on impossible to find someone if you don’t know their name.” Jacynth sighed, “I had a feeling I’d hit a brick wall to be honest but I had to try.” What are you trying to find…birth, marriage death …census… address ? “anything … I know when he was born and his mums name… Sally pulled a box of microfiches from under her desk … Ok we can try ..a birth search to find a first name.” ….but he was adopted as a baby.” Sally put the box away. “No point looking on there then he won’t be listed under the birth parents and that explains why you haven’t got a name… Are you sure I can’t interest you in looking for Aunt Flo?” ~~~ Jacynth peered out of the low cottage windows, maybe it be less obvious if she sat on the wide window seat and read a book or something. Read a book. That was a joke she hadn’t managed to sit still for the last half an hour and Claire had joked she was going to wear a patch in the carpet if she didn’t stop pacing about like a caged animal. She glanced as the gold carriage clock on the mantelpiece, it wasn’t her choice, she’d never liked it and now she wanted to shake it to speed it up. Gill and Claire had driven together out to the cottage that morning. Aisling and Joe had been deposited with Michael, who had promised ice cream if they behaved and they had been happy enough. Jacynth curled up on the window seat, resting her head against the glass to give herself a good view down the street. She wondered briefly how in fifty years of shared friendship herself and Betty had never met, but perhaps Gay had meant it that way. Two parts of her life separated until one could directly affect the actions of the other in the realisation of her final wish. ********************************************************* Gillian and Claire sat quietly, just listening to the conversation, it wasn’t their place to contribute but they knew that Jacynth would need them to be listening and hearing the same story she was. “All there was to do was wait, none of us knew what we were waiting for. We all knew we had to go through it but what awaited us on the other side was a mystery.” She sighed, “I’m not making much sense I know, but what I mean is we all knew we had to have our babies but the conditions in there just made it an uncertain future for us. Some of those girls had no future. It was the luck of the draw.” “Gay’s diary says you were there when she arrived so I presume you left before she did too?” Jacynth asked gently. “No I left after she did, my family knew I was there, unlike Gays’ and they were adamant I was to be punished so they left me there until the New Year. They wanted to punish me over the Christmas so they left me there in that hell. Christmas in there was awful, for most of us anyway. Those of us who were waiting to be allowed home, or those still carrying a new life had nothing to hold onto, at least the few girls who had given birth but whose babies had not been taken away had something to love that day. In most ways it was no different to any other day. I remember we had a turkey dinner, I think it was provided by the church and we each had an orange…that was the best part, I remember I kept mine until it started to shrivel up and I sucked each piece until all the goodness was gone. I allowed myself one segment in the morning and one at night until it had all gone. We added the pips to the calendar we had created using bits of gravel and little bits of rubbish, it was the only way of keeping track where we were with the outside world, that and knowing the readings at chapel on Sundays.” “You hadn’t your baby at Christmas?” “No my baby was taken away on the 19th of November 1952.” Betty shuddered. “I remember the day like it was yesterday. Everything is burnt into my memory. The sounds, the smells, the atmosphere. I knew it was going to happen. There was no chance of me walking down Queen Street holding my baby tightly with my head held high, not if you considered the way my parents had reacted to the news that their middle daughter was expecting a child. At least I had a few days longer with my girl than Gay had. Like I said luck of the draw. It all was. There was no logic behind it. Almost as if the bitches rolled a dice like it was some game. A game with young girl’s lives. I knew I’d never take my baby home but it made it no easier. I knew it was coming.” Betty picked up a piece of shortbread, snapped it and popped in her mouth. No one said anything, no one knew what to say, the emotional shutters had come down and it seemed Betty didn’t want to talk about that particular day. Jacynth poured more coffee for everyone and they waited until Betty spoke. “I spent everyday wondering about her. They broke my heart when they took her away. She was crying, I was nearly hysterical with it all. I never expected it to hurt quite soo much. Anyway everyday I thought of her and how she was and where she might be and if she was happy. Then one day they changed the law. I couldn’t look for her, only she could do that when she was 21 she was able to apply for her original birth certificate, the one that says I’m her Mum. She had to have one to be adopted because she was that little bit older. There is nothing anywhere that says she’s my girl though. She was adopted and all the birth records and things list her as theirs. I remember I heard about the change on the news, 1975 it was. It was near Christmas too. Anyone who was adopted and over 21 could now apply to see their records and trace their birth mother. Any mother whose child had been adopted could place their name on the contact register held by social services so their child could contact them if they wished.” Betty smiled “It was a glimmer of hope for us..our children might find us. They had said at the home that the adoptive parents might say all sorts about us.. mad in the head, unhinged and the like …or that we died in childbirth and many did of course, or that we didn’t want them. Any reason to stop them looking.” “Did she? Your daughter … what was her name ..?” “Annie I called her and yes she did. I was one of the lucky ones in that respect. And one of the unlucky ones. Annie wrote to me because my details were on the register, whenever I moved I kept them current, just in case she contacted me, and one day she did. March 12th 1980. She was 28. It was Wednesday and it was raining cats and dogs and this letter arrived in the post. It was the happiest day of my life. My baby wanted to know her mum. I remember I rang Gay and she was so pleased but I knew it was breaking her heart that she was not the lucky one. I wish it had all been happiness though. She and I tried to forge a relationship but it was hard. She hadn’t had the best childhood, whoever said adoptive parents are better for the child than unmarried mothers got it wrong in this case. She was bitter against me for giving her up and said some hateful things. We were in touch for a while– Christmas cards and the like, but it wasn’t right and she broke off contact again a few years ago. It will never be right no matter how much I want it.” “Can we find Aunty Gay’s baby though Betty? Is there any loophole?” Claire asked quietly. “Poor little mite and poor poor Gay…Let me talk to a friend of mine who is tracing her child..her son I think it is..she had him forcibly adopted but she’s tracing him using a meditative service. I’ll talk to her and see, they are a charity based in ….” “Mam… Mam guess what!” The door flew open and Aisling stood there grinning. “We had ice cream!” “Stawberry?” quieried Claire smiling. “Yeah, but how do you know?” Aishling was puzzled. “Sweetheart it’s all over your face.” She grinned up at Michael. “Did you not have a tissue?” Michael looked sheepish whilst Aisling proceeded to use her tshirt to try and remove the evidence of her icecream feast from her face. Where’s Joe ..what flavour did he have? There was a mumble from behind Michael. Claire reached round and pulled her son into vision. “Josephhhhhhhhhh!!! Holy St Joseph! what happened to you?” Hi Mam, sorry! I errm well we was feeding the ducks …and I ermmm .... “He felled in the pond and there was a big splash!” Aisling laughed at her brother’s misfortune. “You look like a drowned rat Joe you really do. I hope no one saw you walking home like that!” Claire noted the expressions on both Joseph’s and Michael’s faces. “Who?” “We bumped into the vicar actually Claire” “Great! We’ll be hounded out of the village, they’ll think I can’t control my kids!” Jacynth laughed at her discomfort. “They’ll think no such thing. All they will think is those kiddies are related to Gay Lambert. She was no angel even in the last few years she got up to some antics.” Betty laughed, “I better get out of your way and let you sort those pair out. Jacynth have a look through the diary, I’m not saying it’ll help in any way but it might help you understand the torment we lived with and there might well be some crucial facts in there.”

Author:	LizB [ Fri Jun 16, 2006 10:47 pm ]
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It seems an almost impossible search Thanks, Sugar

Author:	Sugar [ Sat Jun 17, 2006 8:03 pm ]
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Bit more. Glad people are glad it's back. As Jacynth picked up the diary she noticed something flutter onto the floor. Loose sheets. She hoped she could work out where they might fit in. She had never noticed an obvious gap but it was a tad sporadic in parts so impossible to tell. Jacynth looked more closely at the sheets. They were not pages, which had worked loose. She unfolded them and began to read. 1962 “I may dream a million dreams, but how can they come true, if there will never, ever be... another you?” Happy Birthday darling boy. I wonder where you are today. 10 years old. Wherever you are I hope you are loved and happy. I hope you have a wonderful family. I wish I could talk to you. To tell you had I no choice, that you were not given away but taken away from me. From your mother who loves you. I will always love you. There is a place in my heart with “Paul” written in it and only you will fit there, no one else can fill that part of my heart. It belongs to you. Happy Birthday sweetheart love Mummy. ~~~ 1973 ”I would give anything I own, Give up me life, my heart, my home. I would give everything I own, just to have you back again.” Dear Paul, Today is your 21st birthday. I wonder what sort of man you are growing into. Do you have a girlfriend yet? I hope so. I wonder what you are planning to do with your life now you are an adult. Have you got a trade, maybe you are a mechanic or maybe you have a degree and are planning to do something wonderful. I wonder will you want to be well travelled? I miss you very much and today it just hurts that little bit more. You are finally an adult, your childhood is over. You are stepping into a new horizon, but you probably don’t realise it. At 21 I had just finished my BA from the Royal Academy and thought performing the cello would be my future, my career, my destiny, my life. How wrong I was. I hope the dreams you hold in your heart are fulfilled for you. I hope they might involve finding me. I hope you have some good friends who will help you celebrate your 21st birthday. I shall open a bottle of champagne to toast you with. Happy 21st Birthday Paul Stay safe for always Love from Your Mum ~~~ 1982 “Talk about things you'd like to do You've got to have a dream If you don't have a dream How you gonna have a dream come true” Dear Paul, I heard this playing the radio today while I was going to see your Aunty Jacynth, she was performing in a concert of well respected musicians. Two for each instrument were chosen. Your Aunt Jacynth was one of the cellists. She was very pleased to be chosen even though she said that she was an “old dear” and they would be better choosing a younger performer but apparently the panel was insistent. I’m glad they chose her. She was very good. It seemed a nice way to celebrate your birthday. I hope you had a nice day? I often wonder how you are? If you are well? I wonder if at 30 you are married and if you have children. I would like to think I had grandchildren somewhere. I hope that you do not hate me. I often wonder whether you have thought to try and find me since you came of age but maybe one day you will. I will never leave here – just in case you come looking one day. I wish I could wrap my arms around you and touch you. Whisper, “forgive me” and “I’m sorry” and “I love you” in your ear and be your mum. I miss you. I never wanted to let you go. Please one day Paul I hope that you’ll realise I love you with all my heart. Happy birthday Paul Love now and forever Mum Jacynth wiped away her tears. She hadn’t realised she was crying. Poor Gay. ************************************************************ The summer evening sun was streaming through the window as he crossed the busy room towards her. She was sitting up, grinning at him, although she looked exhausted. “Dad! This is George….. “George, this is Granddad.” He looked at the tiny bundle in her arms and smiled. “Georgio …. He’s beautiful love” “Thanks Dad” William clicked the camera and took a series of shots of mum and baby. “How heavy?” “3kg.” “And in old money?” He laughed at her “6 and a half pounds” “Bit lighter than you then Nicola .. you were 7lb 2oz” “What weight were you? Nicola asked. “No idea.. they never told my mum and dad when they took me. “Sorry I forgot” “It’s ok sometimes I forget too. Nonna and Nonno are the people who brought me up as their own.” “Do you ever wonder about your real Mum?” “Sometimes… I’m wondering now” “Did you ever think of finding her Dad?” Nicola could tell by the look on his face that the idea had never occurred to him. “What?.. find my birth mother …why?” As William drove home from the hospital he thought how things had changed in half a century. Here was Nicola just having given birth to George with no one showing any prejudice towards her, despite her being a single mum who’s boyfriend had categorically not wanted a baby. He wished society had been different when his mother was expecting him. He did not know many details, his adoptive parents had not wanted to divulge much and he hadn’t really been interested, he felt loved and content with his lot but something had happened when he saw George and Nicola had mentioned finding his real mother. William thought back over his childhood and remembered snippets of conversations overheard and the realisation that he looked so different to his Italian mother, with her dark hair and prominent features and different also to his father with his heavy set physique, because he was not their child. They had loved him as their own and he had never felt anything but their son but he wondered about his birth mother as he negotiated the traffic. The phone call had been brief, officious and to the point. Thankfully. He’d never realised it was quite this complicated. He was deemed to be of sound mind and intelligence without malice provocation. The post had arrived that morning and he had deliberately left the brown A4 boarded envelope until after work.

Author:	Chair [ Sat Jun 17, 2006 10:09 pm ]
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Thanks, Sugar. I have just read this all the way through. I'm sorry I had got so behind. I hope that William and Jacynth will manage to get in touch with each other.

Author:	LizB [ Sat Jun 17, 2006 11:18 pm ]
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You are making me cry just as much this time round as last time Thanks, Sugar

Author:	Rosy-Jess [ Sun Jun 18, 2006 8:43 am ]
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I am SO glad this is back. It's so sad though, and yet I'm hoping for a happy ending, so it's okay. Thankyou!

Author:	Helen P [ Sun Jun 18, 2006 12:00 pm ]
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I am very glad to see this back too - thank you Sugar, I'm looking forward to lots and lots more!

Author:	Fatima [ Sun Jun 18, 2006 1:01 pm ]
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Thanks, Sugar; I'm also hoping that there will be a happy ending.

Author:	Kat [ Sun Jun 18, 2006 1:05 pm ]
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Ooooooh waiting with rather baited breath Hurry up, Sugar!

Author:	Sugar [ Sun Jun 18, 2006 7:34 pm ]
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Jacynth reread the article. They were suggesting abolishing the use of the terms, Spinster and Bachelor on official forms and replacing them with “Single” Jacynth thought it was a daft idea. Single to her implied an isolated existence, in a bubble floating away from others. She wasn’t single. She had a great many friends and a surrogate family in Claire Ramsay and her children. And she had Gay. She had chosen not to marry and liked the term spinster as she thought it gave an air of independence. She hadn’t married through lack of offers but through choice. She hadn’t been left on the proverbial shelf. She had rejected Hughie and David both. She wondered what Gay would have thought of the idea and idly picked up the battered red exercise book. August 13th 1952 I’m resting this on my tummy as I write; it feels strange knowing I have a little person growing inside of me, a person that Steven and I created because we loved each other. I know it’s been an age since I wrote anything but its been somewhat busy here. Mary’s gone and so has the baby. The baby went today and Mary was collected tonight, at least she hasn’t the torment of waiting to go home. It was all co-ordinated for her. She hadn’t stopped crying and you can hardly blame her but they seem happy to be rid of her. It started with her screaming. It just came out of nowhere. “Don’t take him …Don’t take him…please he’s mine…” When Betty heard that she leaned out of the window as well as she could and peered down the driveway. It was then that the door opened. Elizabeth stood there. “Betty! What are you doing?” Betty turned and told Elizabeth she was trying to see the parents that were taking the baby. “Don’t Bet, let him go to his new life and for the love of God will you get down from the window you put the heart across me I thought you were going to jump!” Betty got down and hugged Elizabeth. Elizabeth was in full force though and carried on her diatribe “And have you any idea how much trouble you’d have been in if it hadn’t been me who’d walked in then but one of the others you stupid girl! Do you really want to spend time locked in that cupboard?” This sobered Betty up. I didn’t write it down at the time because I was soo upset and angry and I didn’t trust myself to write it. Last week Wednesday it was. One of them came in, I have no idea, which, we are supposed to call them all Miss, and there is nothing to distinguish them apart, and carted off Margaret. She was new but wasn’t expecting to stay a long time. Her tummy was very swollen with her baby already. She hadn’t realised that the best way to survive in her was to keep your chin up and your head down and your mouth shut. We don’t know what she’d done wrong but she was locked into the cupboard as a punishment. We heard her yells and insults as we passed on the way to the dining hall that night. The next morning there was no sound. We presumed she’d been let out and was in the dining room. Poor Margaret. She was dead when they went to let her out for breakfast. She hanged herself with a piece of rope she found in the cupboard. Her tummy was still fat though but there was no life there – just like there was no life in Maggie: her face was purple and her eyes bulged out of head. They had no sympathy to her though, said she was selfish to deprive a new family of their child. Callous old bats. There was not even a funeral or a service for her here, it was as if she just vanished over night. Goodness only knows what they told her family though. “May her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace.” Not sure why that just came into my head but it seems apt and think it’s a catholic blessing I think she was a catholic so she’d know it. Mary’s baby was taken, Mary has gone too. Home to forget her baby and be a good girl, get married to a respectable man and stay out of trouble. She would always be tainted though. We all would be. One mistake never to be forgiven, one little baby never to be forgotten. ********************************************************** As he slit it open and gently eased out the thin parchment he wondered what his life might have been. The two large sheets were thin and almost translucent, a creamy colour with red embossed detailing. The first bore the details Name: Paul Steven Lambert Date of Birth: 2nd October 1952 7.45pm Place of Birth: St Anne’s, 96, Queens Hill Road, Chesterbury. Mothers Name: Gabrielle Lambert Marital Condition: Spinster Age: 24 Fathers Name: Unknown Details: Unknown Birth Registered by: Gabrielle Lambert William stared at the piece of paper. She had called him Paul. He had been in Chesterbury not in Liverpool as his parents had told him. He presumed St Anne’s was the home for unmarried girls where he was adopted. Although he had spoken to the social worker before his records were released to him, a requirement for any adoptee born before a date in 1975, he was still hazy on the details and felt unable to press his mother for specifics and his father had finally succumbed to cancer a few years previously. There were no details on the certificate about his real father. He presumed his birth mother had known them though. His middle name was Steven; maybe that was his father’s name. He would never know. Not unless he traced her. He scanned the adoption certificate briefly. He wanted to know how old he had been. Date of adoption: 13th November 1952. He was just under 6 weeks old. He wondered had he spent those 6 weeks with his birth mother, with Gabrielle, being called Paul and being loved. “Paul Steven Lambert” he spoke it quietly, gently as if evoking a long lost memory. He wondered would Paul have been a different person to William. ******************************************************** She knew she had to go. She wasn’t sure she wanted to but something was making her. Betty drove north, along the country roads, unseeingly with her mind elsewhere. The leaves were turning, once a vibrant green they now scattered the ground: gold, brown, red, orange: a sign that life continued outside the walls of this place. She remembered sitting at the window watching the leaves falling and being blown hither and thither by the breeze. “Bets…come here will you?” Gay was standing at the corner of her bed, as pale as a sheet. “There’s something leaking from me.” “It’s ok it’s your time. Don’t worry.” I reassured. “The baby lives in a little bag of liquid of some sort, like iodine or something I think to keep it free of germs. When it pops your baby is ready that’s all.” “How do you know all that?” said Gay grimacing slightly. “Elizabeth told me. Do you remember that day I ricked my ankle and you went out for a walk in the grounds without me? She came to bandage it up and we got talking about what would happen. She knew I was scared.” “Scared… I’m terrified and it’s happening NOW!” Betty remembered sending one of the newer girls for Elizabeth and was relieved it was a working day. It was a Thursday, It was an afternoon, Elizabeth should be around somewhere. Thankfully she was and she settled Gay quickly. She remember sitting with Gay holding her hand, letting her squeeze it tightly, she knew Gay would have done the same for her. As the shadows lengthened and the twilight turned to darkness Gay sat rocking with the movements of her body. She was calmer than most girls. Her facial expressions and moaning changing with the rhythm of the baby’s movements. Elizabeth had cleared the other girls out into the common room, she had realised Gay’s time would be slow. Betty couldn’t remember how long they had sat there with Gay, hour it seemed and the cries and the periods of more acute pain drew closer. She remembered Gay’s face with her curly plastered to her head with sweat, looking frightened. Suddenly there was a different cry and Elizabeth was easing out a bundle, all bloody and slimy but a baby nonetheless. Gay fell back against the pillows exhausted as Elizabeth cleaned up the baby and informed Gay it was a boy. Betty herself was griped by pain and felt a wetness and realised her own time had come, but Gay was still moaning. Elizabeth came over to the bed and had a look of horror about her with the lamplight catching her slightly. Elizabeth knew there was something wrong. You could tell by her face. Betty remembered thinking back to a few weeks previously when Janet had given birth but slipped away in those first few minutes of her baby’s life. Please God don’t let that happen to Gay. Gays moans continued and Elizabeth examined her swiftly. Within minutes Gay was lying limp and exhausted and Elizabeth was wrapping up the lifeless infant who wasn’t strong enough to fight to live. It was Elizabeth’s expertise that saved Gay and her boy that night, Elizabeth had told her the girl was very small in comparison and had no chance really. Gay called her Jacynth and then she was taken away. Betty hadn’t asked to where, sometimes it was just better not to know. She wondered if Gay had ever confided in Jacynth or anyone else for that matter about the little girl. Her own Annie was born quicker and more easily that Gays babies and for that she was grateful. None of Betty’s subsequent pregnancies had seemed as bad though, due she knew to proper antenatal care and support during the birth. She drove up the driveway flanked by trees and towards the Outdoor Pursuit Centre. She felt herself being pulled into the past. Her past. ******************************************************** Claire opened the letter and smiled. Dear Claire, Well he’s here a little bit earlier than expected but all appears to be going well. He’s 3kg or in old money as Dad calls it 6½ pounds. Hes such a lovely little guy. Seems happy enough to be passed around, which is just as well because between Nonna and Great Aunty Liz I haven’t seen much of him since I bought him home. I suppose it could be worse though, I could have no one who cared about him. I wish desperately that Andy had been in touch. No he hasn’t and he’d probably contest paternity if I got the CSA on him or something. I do love him but he’s slippery as an eel where commitment is concerned. Dad took some snaps with his new digital camera I printed you some off. You think he’d had a baby the way he carries on. I hope Joe and Aisling are ok. We must try and get together at some point, it has been ages since I saw you or any of the crowd from uni but that’s real life for you. Is there any gossip floating about? Let me know. Keep in touch. You know where we are. Lots of love Nicky (and George) xxx Claire looked at the pictures of George and Nicky and smiled. “Anything interesting?” asked Jacynth “Friend from university has had her first baby. Look ..” Claire passed over the snap of George. “He’s lovely ..What’s his name?” “George ..George Arnett” ****************************************************************************** He held the folded paper gently in his hands. It had arrived in the post that day recorded delivery but he had left it on the kitchen table as he was running late for a business lunch with his Italian counterpart who had flown in specially. The contents of the boarded envelope had preyed heavily on his mind throughout the and his drive home had taken a considerably shorter time than normal and he was relieved the abundance of speed cameras along the busy dual carriageway had been otherwise occupied as he wove his way home. He had requested the details from the Contacts Register at Social Services but he was scared to look at it. The piece of paper held the details for his birth mother’s current contact details. This was it. Did he really want to know? He stood shaking as he unfolded the paper and glanced down. He tried to focus on the type but it appeared to be moving, he brushed the back of his hand over his eyes impatiently and looked again. It was a slim piece of paper, almost like a compliments slip with the Social Services emblem and contact details on the top right hand corner. He focused on the important details Paul Steven Lambert Date of Birth: 2nd October 1952 Current Details for Natural Mother Ms Gabrielle Lambert, Bluebell Cottage, Church Lane, Little Compton Current Details for Natural Father N/A Paul felt sick, he had no need to look at the rest of the details. Little Compton was a scenic village about an hour away, well known for it’s proximity to the country house hotel and prestigious golf course of Compton Magna. His stomach rumbled and he realised he was hungry- it was a long time since the pasta at the business meeting, which he had found too soggy and the sauce too watery and he was hungry. He replaced the sheet into the envelope and went through to the galley kitchen of his modern loft apartment to fix himself some food. As he whisked the eggs for an omelette he thought. His mother lived an hour away. Gabrielle Lambert, his natural mother, the woman who gave birth to him, lived an hour away. His mind drifted and his eggs went uncooked.

Author:	KathrynW [ Sun Jun 18, 2006 10:21 pm ]
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So terribly sad... Thank you Sugar

Author:	Sarah_L [ Sun Jun 18, 2006 11:05 pm ]
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It's so sad seeing how the girls were treated. And the contrast with baby George's birth is especially touching? Do Gay's family not know she's in the home? Is she legally obliged to stay there, even though she's 24 and it was the doctor rather than a family member who sent her there? I don't know much about how these homes worked, but I always assumed the girls only went there because their families sent them.

Author:	Chair [ Mon Jun 19, 2006 7:54 pm ]
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Thanks, Sugar. I'm sorry that William won't be able to meet Gay.

Author:	patmac [ Mon Jun 19, 2006 8:59 pm ]
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Chair wrote: Thanks, Sugar. I'm sorry that William won't be able to meet Gay. I was just thinking that when I saw Clare's post So sad that the chance has gone forever. And to think that Aisling knows the family!

Author:	Sugar [ Mon Jun 19, 2006 11:52 pm ]
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Next Bit Swallow View had come onto the housing market and Claire had put in an offer to buy it but was staying at Bluebell Cottage until she heard. She loved the village where Gay had lived and it was not too far to commute to the office where she worked as a PA. The children had started at the local village school and it was to there that Claire was walking to pick the children up as a car drew up beside to ask for directions. The electric window came down on the passenger side of the grey midsize family car and Claire looked in at the driver, a man in his fifties with sandy coloured hair and a boyish grin. “Hello there, sorry to bother you.. I was wondering could you point me in the direction of Church Lane?” Yes, of course, go down here to ivy cottage on the left and turn then drive til you see the pub and then turn right and that’s Church Lane..” “Great, Thanks” The man stepped on the accelerator and Claire was left wondering what was of interest in Church Lane, to a man, who by his accent was definitely not local. She continued to wonder as she walked through the school gates to collect Joe and Aisling but the intrigue was forgotten as Aisling raced up to her. “Mummy I is a angel” Aisling beamed at her mother. Claire smiled indulgently at her, “Yes you are pet.” “She means in the Nativity play Mum” Joe interjected glumly “Yes me an’ Breaghanna is angels”Claire couldn’t help but laugh as she knew from a discussion last week with the Nursery teacher that Aisling’s little friend Breaghanna was no angel, despite like Aisling having a riot of blonde hair and blue eyes. “What about you Joe? Are your class doing a scene or something?” “I’m a shepherd,” said Joe, kicking a stone, obviously not impressed with his role. “I need a ……” “tea towel?” mused Claire. “Yeah how did you know?” Joe was perplexed. Claire grinned, obviously there had been no advances in Shepherd costumes since her own school days. “Just a wild guess kidda” The children chatted about their day to Claire as they walked quickly home, Joe kicking wet leaves despite Claire’s protestations and Aisling talking nineteen to the dozen about her time in the home corner and play dough which smelt like gingerbread men. As they turned the corner Claire saw the grey car that had stopped her for directions earlier parked outside the cottage. Seeing her approach the man got out. “Hello again..did you find what you were looking for?” She greeted him warmly. The man looked at the cottage. “Do you live here?” “That’s my house!” piped up Aisling. “Yes” explained Claire “We live here with a family friend. I’m Mrs Ramsay”“Oh” said the man gruffly. “I see.”Claire sensed his disappointment but was unsure what to say. Within seconds the man had returned to his car and driven off at a speed more suited to Brands Hatch than a quietly country village and Claire had let herself into Bluebell Cottage to share the event with Jacynth. *************************************** Same scene from another perspective William came out of the office early for once and got in the car and looked at the A-Z. Not a complicated journey but a monumental one. He drove the majority of the journey listening to the local radio drive time programme but not really paying close attention, following the local signs to the golf club until he came into the village itself. He was just wandering how to find the address he needed when he saw a young woman walking idly along the pavement and he pulled alongside her. As he pressed the automatic windows down he decided against asking for the house but only the street name and was rewarded with directions and not much inquisitiveness from the young woman. He drove past the cottage at the end of the road and followed a narrower road past “The Bull and Gate” and turned into a pretty lane with the Church situated at one end. William stopped outside Bluebell Cottage, for he knew it was that by the plaque adorning the wall just beside the old fashioned front door. He couldn’t just knock. His mother might not be in. His mother? He couldn’t believe he was thinking of her as his mother, but he was and that is who she is. How could he explain himself to anyone other than her? The Social Worker had explained that unmarried mothers often started their lives again once their child had been adopted, often not telling future husbands or children of their past. Indeed the Social Worker advised again “turning up on the doorstep and saying “Hi Mum” but William was impetuous. Maybe if he sat a while he might see her. That would be enough for now. He sat watching the house carefully thinking about his mother and the family that she had now. Would he have brothers and sisters, nieces, nephews? He looked at the details from the contact register. Ms Gabrielle Lambert. He realised with a sinking heart his mother had never married. He would have no siblings. As he sat thinking he saw the young woman from earlier walking towards him with two small children and the young girl had raced up the wide shallow steps to the cottage. Without thinking William got out of the car and approached them. “Hello again..did you find what you were looking for?” The young woman from earlier smiled up at him as she tied her chestnut curls back from her face. William glanced at the cottage, he knew it was a risk but he had to ask. “Do you live here?” “That’s my house!” piped up the small girl from the top of the steps pointly proudly at it. “Yes” explained Claire “We live here with a family friend. I’m Mrs Ramsay”William’s face fell. He felt like his stomach was going to hit the floor. “Oh” said he said, whilst fighting back confusion, disappointment and his tears. “I see.” Without thinking he jumped back into the car and drove out of the village like a maniac. What a stupid thing to do he thought. He turned on the radio as he drove onto the main room between the two villages. “You had a bad day, You had a bad day, The camera don't lie.” He turned the radio off as the tears poured down his face and he did little to stop them. ********************************************************* Jacynth looked at the diary with it’s crumpled pages; this page had been touched and reread many times - that was obvious. She sipped her coffee and began to read. October 4th 1952 My tummy is flat. It is over. I have my little boy, hes soo beautiful and his hands and feet are sooo tiny. I am going to memorise every detail of his face so that even when he’s gone, I won’t forget him. I am never letting this happen again. It was too painful but I suppose that is what the Sister’s wanted. Betty still has her fat belly, she’s finding it a trial to get around; much like I was and wishes her time would come. She says I’m lucky that everything happened early for me. How can I be lucky? I lost my angel baby. She was so beautiful, so small, so perfectly formed but too small and she came too early and couldn’t fight. Maybe God took her to keep her safe for me so that I wouldn’t have to give her up like I will my boy. God took her away so that my angel stays mine for always. I loved her so much but it was not to be. She’ll live in my heart for eternity. I won’t tell anyone about her. She’s my special one and I want to keep her to myself. I wanted to see her again, to hold her close but when I asked Elizabeth she said that my baby Jacynth had gone. “Will there be a funeral service?” I asked. The reply was negative- Elizabeth said my baby had gone and advised me to think about something else. I asked the other sister where my baby girl would be buried, I don’t think she heard me because she never answered. Jacynth felt like something hard was pressing into her heart and squeezing the breath out of her. She ran to the bathroom and wretched, struggling for breath. Gay had twins and never told her. She had a baby girl she called after me, thought Jacynth and she never told me. Jacynth, feeling as if someone had kicked her very hard in the stomach, picked up the battered red book and continued to read the entry. Paul is wrapped in a blanket, lying at the bottom of my bed in a small wooden box. He is sleeping and looks so peaceful with his tiny fists scrunched up tight. I was allowed to feed him last night. It is a very strange feeling, having a baby suckle and knowing you are providing for it. To be truthful , knowing he is my baby is a very strange feeling in itself. He is part of me. My child, who I created. Hark at me, I know Steven had done his fair share. It takes two to tango and we had certainly done more that the foxtrot! I mustn’t think of him. He betrayed me and I hate him – if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be here. My girl wouldn’t be gone and I wouldn’t be in danger of loosing my boy too. I’m not going to loose him. I’m going to… The entry ended