don’t this time. You might regret it.’
‘But Kate’s made her intentions clear – she doesn’t want to meet me.’
‘Don’t take
no
for an answer unless it suits you too,’ he persisted, serious.
‘I don’t know what I should do … I can’t even think straight …’
‘Think logically. Go on, Erin – even I know something about the woman from what you’ve told me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You have her single name, Kate Flanagan, and you have her age; and the social worker as good as told you that she got married within two years of your birth … so it’s quite a narrow window you have to search.’
‘Search?’
‘Yes, for her married name, the name on her marriage cert, presuming she married in Ireland. It should be fairly easy to find – then you will have an address at least and can start tracking more information.’
‘Have you done this before?’
‘I told you – I make documentaries. It’s what I do,’ smiled Matt. ‘You get to be good at searching for and finding out things.’
‘Thanks, Matt.’
‘No problem.’
They had two more drinks and then Erin realized she really had to go home. She had about five missed calls from her mum and two from her dad, and even three messages from Luke.
‘Look!’ She passed her phone to Matt. ‘What do I tell them?’
‘The truth.’
‘They’ll be so upset for me.’
‘Fair enough, but if you do try to meet Kate, maybe next time don’t tell them …’
She watched as he started to use her phone.
‘I’m putting in my number, just in case …’
He really was a nice guy – a bit nerdy, but in a nice, old-fashioned way.
‘Hey, I’d better get going too,’ he said, getting up and grabbing his things. ‘I’m meeting someone later and I want to get rid of this stuff and check in with Ritchie and his Dutch lady.’
‘Matt, thanks for everything.’
‘I didn’t do much.’
‘You listened.’ Erin hugged him.
O’Reilly’s had started to fill up and some musicians were beginning to set up at the back of the bar. It was raining outside. They were going different directions, so Erin headed up towards the nearby line of waiting taxis as Matt pulled up his hood and disappeared into the wet night.
She checked her phone, reading her numerous messages. It was so embarrassing. Her mum, her dad, her friends, even Uncle Bill had texted her. What the hell was she going to say to everyone?
Chapter Twenty
KATE STOOD IN the living room, frozen like a statue, the keys of her car in her hands. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t move, leave here and drive in to meet her daughter. She wasn’t in a fit state to get behind the wheel of a car, she was so anxious. Maybe she should order a taxi to collect her and bring her into the city centre? But she just couldn’t do it. She stayed rooted to the spot, conscious of time ticking by and a girl sitting in a Dublin restaurant waiting for her to arrive …
Time passing … the moments slipping … away …
She went upstairs and searched in the bottom of her section of the wardrobe. She found what she was looking for, then sat down on the bed and opened the old cardboard memory box that she kept hidden. It was all that she had of her baby: a tiny clipping of hair, two photos, her plastic name-bracelet, and a copy of the birth certificate and the letter of permission that she had signed with the adoption agency. A pink and a white Mothercare baby-grow and a pink knitted hat. She felt the softness of the wool. Sometimes it seemed like she only dreamed about giving birth to a child, imagined it. But touching each of these items reminded her of the truth, and of her actions.
It was so long ago, but sometimes it seemed like only yesterday that she and Johnny had been together. Madly in love, obsessed with each other, two young fools who had no idea what the future would bring. Jonathan Devlin was everything she ever wanted in a boyfriend: tall and good looking, self-confident and sure of
‘But Kate’s made her intentions clear – she doesn’t want to meet me.’
‘Don’t take
no
for an answer unless it suits you too,’ he persisted, serious.
‘I don’t know what I should do … I can’t even think straight …’
‘Think logically. Go on, Erin – even I know something about the woman from what you’ve told me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You have her single name, Kate Flanagan, and you have her age; and the social worker as good as told you that she got married within two years of your birth … so it’s quite a narrow window you have to search.’
‘Search?’
‘Yes, for her married name, the name on her marriage cert, presuming she married in Ireland. It should be fairly easy to find – then you will have an address at least and can start tracking more information.’
‘Have you done this before?’
‘I told you – I make documentaries. It’s what I do,’ smiled Matt. ‘You get to be good at searching for and finding out things.’
‘Thanks, Matt.’
‘No problem.’
They had two more drinks and then Erin realized she really had to go home. She had about five missed calls from her mum and two from her dad, and even three messages from Luke.
‘Look!’ She passed her phone to Matt. ‘What do I tell them?’
‘The truth.’
‘They’ll be so upset for me.’
‘Fair enough, but if you do try to meet Kate, maybe next time don’t tell them …’
She watched as he started to use her phone.
‘I’m putting in my number, just in case …’
He really was a nice guy – a bit nerdy, but in a nice, old-fashioned way.
‘Hey, I’d better get going too,’ he said, getting up and grabbing his things. ‘I’m meeting someone later and I want to get rid of this stuff and check in with Ritchie and his Dutch lady.’
‘Matt, thanks for everything.’
‘I didn’t do much.’
‘You listened.’ Erin hugged him.
O’Reilly’s had started to fill up and some musicians were beginning to set up at the back of the bar. It was raining outside. They were going different directions, so Erin headed up towards the nearby line of waiting taxis as Matt pulled up his hood and disappeared into the wet night.
She checked her phone, reading her numerous messages. It was so embarrassing. Her mum, her dad, her friends, even Uncle Bill had texted her. What the hell was she going to say to everyone?
Chapter Twenty
KATE STOOD IN the living room, frozen like a statue, the keys of her car in her hands. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t move, leave here and drive in to meet her daughter. She wasn’t in a fit state to get behind the wheel of a car, she was so anxious. Maybe she should order a taxi to collect her and bring her into the city centre? But she just couldn’t do it. She stayed rooted to the spot, conscious of time ticking by and a girl sitting in a Dublin restaurant waiting for her to arrive …
Time passing … the moments slipping … away …
She went upstairs and searched in the bottom of her section of the wardrobe. She found what she was looking for, then sat down on the bed and opened the old cardboard memory box that she kept hidden. It was all that she had of her baby: a tiny clipping of hair, two photos, her plastic name-bracelet, and a copy of the birth certificate and the letter of permission that she had signed with the adoption agency. A pink and a white Mothercare baby-grow and a pink knitted hat. She felt the softness of the wool. Sometimes it seemed like she only dreamed about giving birth to a child, imagined it. But touching each of these items reminded her of the truth, and of her actions.
It was so long ago, but sometimes it seemed like only yesterday that she and Johnny had been together. Madly in love, obsessed with each other, two young fools who had no idea what the future would bring. Jonathan Devlin was everything she ever wanted in a boyfriend: tall and good looking, self-confident and sure of
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