Heartstrings | Page 2

high and thin,
‘You mean it's a good thing he isn't around to hear it.’
‘I told you he is dead.’
‘Well, in that case, how come he writes to me?’
‘He what!’
‘Writes to me, Mum’ he went on cruelly, glaring at her pale face, ‘Every year, on my
birthday.’
‘He never does.’
‘Yes, so he does.’

Heartstrings

4
‘Why are you telling me this now? Why do you have to tell me these things now?’ the
woman sat down. Her body had thickened as maturity had overtaken her. And now that she
was running into old age, she had stiffened. But now, she had collapsed, as though the power
that held her spine straight, had melted and run out of her, like the blood that had left her face
pale.
‘At least I never lied to you, did I, Mum?’
She fixed her eyes on his, ‘No.’
‘Would you rather that I did?’
‘Yes.’
‘That's your way, though, isn't it?’
‘Sometimes the time for the truth is not right, love. Sometimes we can’t take the truth. I
never lied to hurt you, I lied to make it easier for you...’
‘How could telling me that my father had died make it easier for me?’
‘Would you rather have lived the life of a bastard? The son of a man who had never cared
enough for you or your mother, to hang around long enough to meet you, even?’
‘I don't know why he left, Mum.’
‘Wouldn't you have blamed me? Maybe blamed yourself?’
Aidan looked down at the floor, ‘Maybe.’
‘Well, it was my fault.’
He felt an awful anguish rise in his heart, ‘Don't blame yourself, Mum.’
‘No. It's true. Since this a day to be truthful, you might as well have it.’
‘That's fair.’ his voice was matter of fact.
‘We only ever did it once.’
He looked away, embarrassed, ‘Er, Mum.’
‘Your telling me about your sex life,’ she used the words precisely, as though trying them for
the first time, ‘Sex life’ she repeated, ‘Just because I'm your mother, doesn't mean I'm not a
human.’
‘No,’ he could not say more, and lacked the courage to face her down, and stop this flow of
unwelcome information.

Heartstrings

5
‘So. As I said, only once. He wanted more, of course, but I felt so guilty, for even that once,
that I wouldn't again. And then, I'm the unluckiest woman in the world. I got pregnant after
just that one time. Well, I couldn't tell him, could I. And then, he got fed up with me, and off
he went. And that was it.’
‘But you and he got married. He said so.’
‘He said so, I said so. I never said we didn't marry, Son. I only said we only did it once.’
‘My God.’
‘He couldn't help himself. I understand that. I couldn't help myself, either. We was all stupid
in those days. I had the religion, before we met, and I'd wanted to be a nun....’
‘Mum!’ he interrupted, ‘You're not even a Catholic.’
‘Well, I know. But I wanted it, anyway. I wanted the long black gown, and the white edging,
and the big cross hanging on my chest. Just sitting in a cold place, in a dark place in a little
room of my own without the kids and the cousins and everyone yelling at me all the time. I
never wanted to have a kid, I never wanted it. I'd been with Mother for the last two, and even
the one the very last one, that killed her, and I couldn't help it, or her, but got stuck with the
rest of them I wanted to be a Nun.’
He was silent, he reached across and took her hand, but she pulled away, without
acknowledging him.
She went on speaking, ignoring him, looking at the wall. ‘Even though I knew it was the faith
that killed her, all those babies. I knew it was her faith, and I even could understand that Dad
gave up on her, because he couldn't help her, and he couldn't help himself.’
‘Mum.’ his voice came out rough and grating.
‘And I understood why he married again, the nurse, a young girl, not much more than me. I
understood, but I couldn't stand any more of it, not any more, when she started to have babies
too, well, I ran away, and left them all to it.’
‘You worked for Dad, didn't you?’
‘Yes, in his office. I answered the phone, and learnt to type his letters, and I kept