Gracie

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Dot asked.

‘To the kitchen to get something to eat …’ but as Gracie answered she saw someone else standing behind her mother.

‘No you’re not, you’ve got a visitor.’ Dot replied shortly.

‘Good day to you, Gracie. Your mother was telling me you have a problem that needs my help …’

Gracie looked at Father Thomas, the parish priest, and her heart sank. In that instant she knew what was going to happen. Her worst nightmare was about to become reality: she was going to be sent to St Angela’s.

‘Yes, Father …’ was all she could say.

‘Don’t say anything else out here …’ her mother looked around furtively as she whispered to both of them. ‘Wait until we’re somewhere private. There are too many listening ears in this house – I don’t want a soul hearing about this, not a soul …’

Gracie’s knees were shaking as she turned and headed into the living room at the front of the house, followed closely by her mother and the priest. She felt incredibly ashamed having her very personal and private business discussed in front of Father Thomas but at the same time he was someone she quite liked and respected. Gracie sat down on one of the upright chairs that were crowded around the dining table tucked in the bay window and waited passively for him to outline his plan.

‘Now young Gracie, I’m here at your mother’s request to seek a resolution to the problem. We’re thinking you should be going to St Angela’s until this baby is born and then we’ll arrange for it to be adopted by a loving married couple who will raise it as their own. You’re unwed and just eighteen years of age; it will be for the best. There are many good couples in the parish seeking a baby. It’ll be well placed to be having a good future with good married parents.’

Father Thomas’ expression was as kindly as it could be under the circumstances and his tone was calmbut there was no avoiding the disapproval and disappointment that accompanied his words.

‘Thank you,’ Gracie shrugged, aware that her fate was sealed.

She’d known of other girls who’d trod the path to St Angela’s mother and baby home, a large country house on the other side of Rochford which was run by the strictest of nuns, some of whom were nurses, and used by local churchgoing and non-religious parents alike as both a warning and a threat to their daughters … If you get yourself into trouble that’s where you’ll have to go. You’ll get carted off to St Angela’s, and you know what happens there …

That day, when the truth had come out and Gracie had been spirited out of the house and driven away under cover of darkness by a silent stranger, had been a pivotal point in her life. She would remember it clearly forever – because it was the day her relationship with her family had been irreparably damaged.

Gracie hated her mother for sending her away so rapidly with no time for any discussion and no say in her own fate and that of her child’s; she resented her father for not intervening even though she knew deep down that he had no more say in the matter than she herself did, and it upset her that her sisters didn’t understand why she disappeared without a word, never to be a part of the family again.

Gracie had seen a few other girls disappear for a while and then return thinner, sadder and tight-lipped about where they’d been. Everyone guessed they had been to St Angela’s but no one ever spoke about it. It was the bogey-man that had to be avoided at all costs.

Father Thomas had been as kindly as he could be with Dot McCabe standing close beside him and had presented the stay at the home as the only solution for her predicament. Gracie would stay there until the baby was born and adopted, and then she could return home to continue her life with her reputation intact, with no one ever knowing that she had fallen by the wayside.

It had all sounded almost reasonable, until the moment she had been led through the doors of the building that looked just like a large country house from the outside.

But inside the home had been another story altogether.

FIVE (#ulink_65546edb-615f-5441-a676-beeeeecdce73)

Summer 1954

With butterflies that felt the size of blackbirds flapping away inside her stomach, Gracie wandered around the guest lounge at the Thamesview Hotel several times, looking at and touching everything. She ran her fingers along the edge of the marble fireplace, moved a chair a fraction and carefully straightened the new green velvet curtains that framed the sash windows of the room that was going to host her wedding reception. It wasn’t a huge space, but it had a beautiful view out across the estuary and was big enough for the limited number of guests they had invited. Ruby had made good her promise to host their wedding breakfast; the ceremony was to take place in the church just up the road in Shoebury and then the informal reception was being held back at the Thamesview Hotel afterwards.

As Gracie looked around and pondered, she found it hard to believe that in just three days’ time the wedding she had long anticipated would be happening and that she would soon be Sean’s wife. It had only been a few short months since their engagement at the beginning of the year but everything to do with the day was organised down to the last detail, including her beautiful dress that was hanging in wait on the back of the bedroom door.

Gracie tried to calm her pre-wedding nerves by thinking of the occasion rather than the personal aspect of getting married but still she could feel the nerves in her stomach.

After a final look around she closed her eyes and tried to imagine the complex group of invited family and friends in the room together, hopefully laughing, chatting and celebrating her and Sean’s marriage.

Gracie McCabe was hoping against hope that she was making the right decision in marrying Sean Donnelly.

She still felt wary about the two families meeting and how they would all interact, but she was less concerned about her own family being at the wedding after their meeting with Sean had gone so well.

Gracie had been so cautious and nervy when they had arrived at the front door, but her father had immediately welcomed Sean, and encouraged her mother to do likewise. And then Gracie had watched in awe as her new fiancé had turned on the charm and her mother had softened in a way she had never seen before; the normally fierce and abrupt woman practically melting in front of her. It had certainly been an eye-opener to see the feminine side of her mother and it made Gracie smile every time she thought about it. Fred McCabe had been his usual amiable self and her sister Jeanette had giggled girlishly and blushed at Sean’s humorous flattery. Her other sister Jennifer had stayed unobtrusively in the background looking disinterested but despite that Sean had made every effort to charm her and include her in all the conversations.

‘He could charm the birds out of the trees, that one …’ Dot McCabe had said under her breath as they were leaving and Gracie thought that was the nearest thing to a compliment her mother could have uttered. For the first time in all those years she allowed herself to think there was a possibility of a truce between them.

Gracie had been so relieved at the successful outcome, and so buoyed by its success, that it had been a bit of a shock when they’d made the journey to Ireland and she had discovered Sean’s mother was a completely different kettle of fish to the jolly mammy that he himself had described to her.

The instant they had turned up at the Donnelly family home on the outskirts of Dublin, Gracie had realised that she was in for a rough ride. His mother, father, sisters, their respective husbands and some of the nephews and nieces were all waiting outside in a reception line on either side of the garden path and while Sean had excitedly bounced along and said hello to them all, Gracie had been left behind to face a maternal inquisition.

Gracie had done her best to be as charming and receptive as Sean had been to her family but when it came to Sean’s mother she knew immediately that the woman had taken against her on principle. The three days spent in Dublin had been a nightmare for Gracie but she’d survived it by telling herself it wouldn’t have to happen often as they all lived such a long way away.

His mother Rosaleen, two of his sisters and his cousin Patrick were arriving from Ireland the day before the wedding and would be staying at the Thamesview, along with Babs and George Wheaton, Ruby’s foster family from her time in evacuation, and their adopted daughter Maggie, who was going to be a bridesmaid alongside Ruby, her birth mother.

Gracie’s parents and twin sisters were going to be at the wedding, as well as Ruby’s boyfriend, Johnnie Riordan, and a few friends from the Palace.

Everything was in order.

Mrs Sean Donnelly. Get down off the shelf, Miss Gracie McCabe, you’re going to be Mrs Sean Donnelly. You’re going to be a blushing bride … she sang to herself tunelessly as she twirled around in an imaginary waltz across the room and through the doorway, into the reception area. The hotel was eerily empty of ordinary guests, but each room would soon be occupied with the family members and guests who were travelling a distance. Gracie just hoped that everyone would get along for that one day.

As she noted the unusual silence in the building Gracie wondered again at the kindness of her friend Ruby Blakeley, who had forgone four full days of bookings in her hotel to allow room for their wedding guests.

‘Ruby …’ she called. ‘Ruby, where are you? Do you want a cuppa? I’m just going through to the kitchen to make one.’

Ruby put her head out the door on the far side of the hotel reception area and smiled at Gracie.

‘I’m still in the office and yes please, I’m gasping in here. I really wish I could conquer this typewriting lark …’ Ruby said. ‘Actually, shall we go and sit outside, make the most of this very strange peace and quiet? It’s almost spooky, it’s so quiet. This is the first time since I came here that there hasn’t been at least one guest in the building. Even in winter there’s usually someone.’

‘I know. It’s sort of scary …’ Gracie ran across the lobby. ‘Actually, I’ve an even better idea. Let’s go out for the afternoon. No one’s due to turn up until tomorrow evening so we could go and do the things we used to do when we first met, have some fun instead of sitting here all alone, twiddling our thumbs!’

‘Oh yes. I vote for ice cream for lunch and chips for tea, but not too much – you have to fit into your dress on Saturday!’ Ruby laughed. ‘I’ll finish off in here and for once we can just go out and lock up. I’ve had a notice printed for the door to say we’re closed until Monday so we can give it a trial run.’

‘Great. I’ll go and find Henry and let him know he’ll be behind locked doors all alone with the telephone!’

Half an hour later the two friends giggled like schoolgirls as they ran down the steps of the hotel and crossed the road to the promenade.

‘Where shall we start?’ Gracie asked.

‘Kursaal, of course,’ Ruby said. ‘But no more eyeing up the handsome young men who work there, you’re going to be a married woman come Saturday …’

‘But there’s no harm in looking, is there?’ Gracie said mischievously. ‘I mean, who can resist a glimpse of muscle on the arms of a fairground boy?’

‘I suppose not, as it’s a bit of a custom when we go there,’ Ruby grinned as they linked arms and strolled in the direction of the town. It was a perfect day for an afternoon off; the sun was shining, the sea was glistening and both young women were happy in each other’s company.

They walked slowly all along the promenade until they got to the entrance to the Kursaal amusement park; then Gracie and Ruby ran inside, giggling as they raced each other along the path to the first ride. They then slowly made their way around the park in exactly the same way as they had when they had first met in 1946, just weeks after they had both given birth to their first-born but illegitimate babies.

A couple of hours later they stumbled over to the grass that edged the main area of the Kursaal amusement park and fell down in tandem. They were laughing fit to bust after three consecutive rides on the rumbling rollercoaster which had whipped their skirts, blown their hairstyles to smithereens and left them both with bright red cheeks and white knuckles.

‘That was such fun, Rubes,’ Gracie spluttered. ‘We’ve had some good times here together, haven’t we? I hope this isn’t going to be the last time we have fun, what with me getting married and you and Johnny being a real couple all bar the shouting …’