They all drank their tea and ate their saffron buns. Maddie didn’t even taste
hers – she was in a dreamlike state.
‘So many questions,’ she said. ‘I’ve got so many that need to be
answered. Confusing things that I can’t get straight in my head.’
‘I imagine so,’ said the matron. ‘And I’ll try my best to answer them,
but some things I can only guess at. You’ll have to fill in the blanks
yourself.’
‘And this witch of a midwife – she needs to come in here right now and
face the music,’ said Gertie, angrily. Her face was getting redder and the
large port wine stain on her neck had deepened in colour and intensity: it
was her battle face.
Maddie was proud to have her as a friend. A loyal companion who
would walk through fire and flood for you.
‘I
understand your passion, Gertrude,’ said Ethel Ryder, ‘but
unfortunately there’s no way we can speak to Sister Bennett. Her methods
weren’t the kind I encourage, and our philosophies varied greatly.’
‘You’re saying you gave her the push?’ asked Gertie.
‘She was unkind; it wasn’t the sort of treatment I could tolerate. Our
girls are already frightened enough about giving birth without an intolerant
midwife making it worse. So, yes, I asked her to leave.’
‘Maybe you’re happy to leave it there, Matron,’ said Gertie. ‘But we
ain’t. She needs to answer for what she did. Face to face. And I got some
questions for her, even if Maddie don’t.’
‘Then I’m afraid you’ll need to shout,’ said Ethel. ‘For Sister Bennett
has left us for the hereafter. I went to her funeral last year. Not many did.’
‘Well, I hope the man upstairs forgives her,’ said Gertie, raising her eyes
to the ceiling, to some invisible kingdom. ‘’Cause I for one never will. Not
for what she put my friend through. The pain and the anguish of losing a
child, and all the time that poor little kid was out there thinking his mother
hated him.’
‘It’s okay, Gert.’ Maddie smiled wanly at her friend. ‘But I want to
forget her now. I need to think about this lad. My son. Our son,’ she said in
wonder. ‘He knows who his father is. How does he know that? And how
did he get Rudi’s photograph?’
‘Charlie found his birth certificate in the orphanage files; he told them
he was going to leave, and it looks like they didn’t care whether he stayed
or left. He said he never fitted in, and when he saw that he was born here,
he came looking for the place and to find out about his father. The
certificate registered the father as unknown.’
‘So, he asked you about his father?’ said Maddie.
‘You’d told me his name, remember?’ said Ethel Ryder. ‘Rudi Fischer
from the beautiful Alpine village of Ramsau.’
‘You remembered!’ said Maddie.
‘Of course I did. You were in love with the man. It didn’t matter that he
was a German, or a prisoner of war. So, if it didn’t matter to you, why
should anyone else sit in judgement?’
‘And the photograph?’
‘When I came back and you were gone, I took it from Matron’s office.
Kept it safe.’
‘Even though you thought I was a bad mother?’
‘I didn’t understand what made you change your mind, Maddie, and
give him up for adoption. Still, something told me there must be a good
reason for it. But you know what they were like, Matron and Sister Bennett,
they didn’t encourage questions. I was young then, maybe not as
courageous as I should have been. I regret that, but I’ve tried to make up for
it.’
‘You were always kind,’ said Maddie. ‘It must have been difficult. You
sometimes got in trouble for helping us, so you can’t blame yourself.’
Ethel Ryder simply shrugged. ‘The past is the past. It’s gone. All that
matters now is how we deal with the present and make things better for the
future and the next generation. What will you do about your son?’
‘Well, if he still wants to see me, I’ll try to build some bridges. Ask him
to forgive me. I sent him away. Told him I didn’t believe him. Going to
Falmouth, working his passage on a ship to Hamburg? At just fourteen
years old? It sounded like a fiction, a lie. And how did he make it to
Bavaria to find Rudi? Fantasy, that’s what I told him. Pure fantasy.’
‘Then ask him to explain,’ said Ethel. ‘And do what other families do.
Just love him, and support him.’
Maddie nodded, but she had no idea what other families did. Her own
family was hardly an outstanding example of love or support. Would they
take an illegitimate child to their bosom? A young man whose father had
been a captured German prisoner of war? She could think of no
circumstance where her mother would welcome such a grandson. Phyllis
Brady would consider it a disgrace, an embarrassment, and her bosom
would be the same icy place it had always been. There would be no warmth
or protection that being part of a family implied. But the loss would be her
mother’s.
And as for Maddie, she would try and make up for the past. For the hurt
she’d caused this young man, Charlie Brady. If he still wanted her, that was.
If she could find him. She’d told him to leave her house.
‘Thank you for your kindness, Ethel. And for stealing Rudi’s picture back.
And being my angel when I needed one. The world still needs angels,’ said
Maddie. She went over and hugged the matron.
‘That’s a lot to live up to,’ said Ethel Ryder. ‘But I’ll do my best.’
They had had another cup of tea and talked of other things, all three
women doing their best to find a calm after these revelations.
‘Right, we’re going home,’ Maddie said to Gertie. ‘I need to go and find
my son. See if he still wants me.’
‘Would you like to look around, meet some of girls before you leave?
You could visit the nursery. You’ll find it a whole lot sunnier than it was
before. We painted it yellow. And we’ve just had two beautiful new
arrivals. Twins,’ said Ethel, proudly. ‘A boy and a girl. Sweet as buttons.
They’ve been holding each other’s hands through their cots.’
Maddie thought about the friend beside her. It was many years since
Gert had lost her baby, but it wasn’t something you could easily forget.
Looking at someone else’s children in a nursery – it was a pain she couldn’t
inflict on her dearest, most treasured friend. Maddie had discovered her son,
but Gertie would never see her daughter, Alice. Would never hold her in her
arms.
‘A nice thought,’ said Maddie. ‘Maybe another time.’ But it was a lie.
The kind of white lie you told when the truth might hurt.
‘You’re welcome anytime, both of you,’ said Ethel, kindly. ‘Don’t
forget us. The home can always use good friends.’
As she headed to the car, Maddie looked back over her shoulder. One final
look at Rosemundy House. The matron’s words still echoed in her head:
Don’t forget us. And while it was true that Maddie would never forget the
place, she knew that she would never go back there again.
