Chapter Nineteen - ‘Mary and Brandon meet up again’
It took Mary a long while before she could make head or tail of the letter she had just read. She racked her memory, but for the life in her, she couldn’t recall a Brandon Northrop-Murphy from her past life. In fact, she couldn’t recall ever having known anyone with a double-barrelled surname.
The more she thought about it, the more she was inclined to conclude that it must surely be a case of mistaken identity and that the Mary Fanning who the writer sought to establish contact with was a different Mary Fanning.
About one week later, while passing the grocer’s store in the Village Square, Mary saw the picture of a young teenager posted in the shop window. While normally she would have walked on by without giving the image a second glance, because the boy concerned in the notice looked to be the same age as Mary’s daughter, she stopped and read the message beneath.
The poster was an official Garda notice. Seemingly a 9-year-old boy called Shamus Riley had run away from a Social Services Children’s Home in Waterford two weeks earlier after having fought with another resident there and inflicting knife injuries on the other boy. The notice appealed to the public not to approach the boy if seen, but instead, to instantly inform the Garda of his whereabouts.
There was something about the shop poster which seemed to worry Mary Fanning for the rest of that evening, but try as she may to understand what, she couldn’t figure out why some strange boy she neither knew nor had ever seen before should preoccupy her mind.
That night, around 10.00 pm as Mary Fanning prepared for bed, the two things which had been nagging away at her thoughts all day; the letter and the shop poster, collided between her conscious and unconscious brain cells and ignited a brain wave of associated connectivity.
For no apparent reason, Mary’s school days in Clonmel came flooding back to mind. Then, her thoughts flitted to the young poster boy who’d stabbed another boy, before running away from the Children’s Home in Waterford.
Suddenly, two images began to merge into one as the poster picture underwent a process of metamorphosis. No longer did the image she’d seen in the shop window represent Shamus Riley. It was now a different boy of similar age whose image was reflected there; a boy called Brandon Murphy!
“That’s it!” Mary proclaimed. “Brandon Murphy! That’s our connection! There was no mistaken identity after all! I couldn’t remember the Northrop part of his name. I bet Brandon was too embarrassed to use a double-barrelled name which he’d only get teased about.”
Mary slept content that night that an old friend from her school-day past had tried to renew their broken contact. To tell the truth, there was a curiosity factor that had nagged her about the whereabouts of the boy who put up two fingers at the establishment, and after knocking another bully to the ground, did a runner!
Mary longed to discover what had happened to Brandon during the intervening years and whether life had been cruel or kind to him. She resolved to see Brandon at the stated venue in Waterford the very next Saturday that her daughter, Mary, who was now aged 13 years old, was not well enough to have their usual weekend away.
As young Mary grew from child to teenager, while her mother and other staff at her Care Home could understand her and communicate with her, it was virtually impossible for anyone who didn’t know her well enough to do so.
Also, taking young Mary out for full weekends became less attractive an idea the older Mary got. Saturday and Sunday nights away from her residential home would sometimes prove too much and young Mary would ask to be taken back ‘home’. Quite often when her mother came to collect her for the weekend, she would simply refuse to go, preferring to stay in the Care Home and its grounds instead.
The more she thought about it, the more she was inclined to conclude that it must surely be a case of mistaken identity and that the Mary Fanning who the writer sought to establish contact with was a different Mary Fanning.
About one week later, while passing the grocer’s store in the Village Square, Mary saw the picture of a young teenager posted in the shop window. While normally she would have walked on by without giving the image a second glance, because the boy concerned in the notice looked to be the same age as Mary’s daughter, she stopped and read the message beneath.
The poster was an official Garda notice. Seemingly a 9-year-old boy called Shamus Riley had run away from a Social Services Children’s Home in Waterford two weeks earlier after having fought with another resident there and inflicting knife injuries on the other boy. The notice appealed to the public not to approach the boy if seen, but instead, to instantly inform the Garda of his whereabouts.
There was something about the shop poster which seemed to worry Mary Fanning for the rest of that evening, but try as she may to understand what, she couldn’t figure out why some strange boy she neither knew nor had ever seen before should preoccupy her mind.
That night, around 10.00 pm as Mary Fanning prepared for bed, the two things which had been nagging away at her thoughts all day; the letter and the shop poster, collided between her conscious and unconscious brain cells and ignited a brain wave of associated connectivity.
For no apparent reason, Mary’s school days in Clonmel came flooding back to mind. Then, her thoughts flitted to the young poster boy who’d stabbed another boy, before running away from the Children’s Home in Waterford.
Suddenly, two images began to merge into one as the poster picture underwent a process of metamorphosis. No longer did the image she’d seen in the shop window represent Shamus Riley. It was now a different boy of similar age whose image was reflected there; a boy called Brandon Murphy!
“That’s it!” Mary proclaimed. “Brandon Murphy! That’s our connection! There was no mistaken identity after all! I couldn’t remember the Northrop part of his name. I bet Brandon was too embarrassed to use a double-barrelled name which he’d only get teased about.”
Mary slept content that night that an old friend from her school-day past had tried to renew their broken contact. To tell the truth, there was a curiosity factor that had nagged her about the whereabouts of the boy who put up two fingers at the establishment, and after knocking another bully to the ground, did a runner!
Mary longed to discover what had happened to Brandon during the intervening years and whether life had been cruel or kind to him. She resolved to see Brandon at the stated venue in Waterford the very next Saturday that her daughter, Mary, who was now aged 13 years old, was not well enough to have their usual weekend away.
As young Mary grew from child to teenager, while her mother and other staff at her Care Home could understand her and communicate with her, it was virtually impossible for anyone who didn’t know her well enough to do so.
Also, taking young Mary out for full weekends became less attractive an idea the older Mary got. Saturday and Sunday nights away from her residential home would sometimes prove too much and young Mary would ask to be taken back ‘home’. Quite often when her mother came to collect her for the weekend, she would simply refuse to go, preferring to stay in the Care Home and its grounds instead.
~~~~~
About three weeks after receiving the letter from Brandon, Mary determined to renew their acquaintance in the venue he said he frequented on a set day and time.
Unlike the rest of the country, Mary had never got into using the modern methods of communication like e-mails or mobile phones. Indeed, desiring to remain off the radar, she never sought to possess either mobile phone or laptop. She allowed herself a house phone, just in case her solicitor wished to contact her, but no way would she have a television in the house; preferring instead to listen to the radio for her news and to read copious books.
As Mary travelled into Waterford on the Saturday in question she had selected to meet up with her old school friend Brandon, she was filled with some apprehension as well as curiosity of what she would learn about the in-between years since they last met.
Mary alighted from the bus at the ‘Clock Tower’ and looked for ‘Slade’s Coffee House’ across the street. Seeing the venue, she walked towards it, wondering if she would be able to recognise the boy Brandon she once knew briefly, who’d since grown into a mature man.
As Mary walked into the coffee establishment she could see six people inside; two couples and two men. The two men on their own were each sitting at their chosen window table.
Mary looked for some recognition between the two men sitting alone, and remembering the facial birthmark that Brandon had, she stood at the counter as she glanced at each man more closely.
Neither had a red patch of skin on one of their cheeks, but one did have a light facial skin blemish. Mary moved towards the table in question and sat down, much to the occupant’s surprise.
“Is it Brandon?” she asked the man opposite her.
“It is,” he replied with a broad smile, adding, “It must be Mary; that is, Mary Fanning that was!”
“Mary Fanning that was and still is!” Mary replied smilingly.
Unsure of how best to greet each other, Mary offered her hand which Brandon gently held for a few seconds before he shook it.
Over the next hour and a half, Mary and Brandon talked nonstop. Brandon did most of the talking while Mary did most of the listening.
When she returned home that evening, Mary still found it hard to take in all that had happened to Brandon during the intervening thirty years.
Unlike the rest of the country, Mary had never got into using the modern methods of communication like e-mails or mobile phones. Indeed, desiring to remain off the radar, she never sought to possess either mobile phone or laptop. She allowed herself a house phone, just in case her solicitor wished to contact her, but no way would she have a television in the house; preferring instead to listen to the radio for her news and to read copious books.
As Mary travelled into Waterford on the Saturday in question she had selected to meet up with her old school friend Brandon, she was filled with some apprehension as well as curiosity of what she would learn about the in-between years since they last met.
Mary alighted from the bus at the ‘Clock Tower’ and looked for ‘Slade’s Coffee House’ across the street. Seeing the venue, she walked towards it, wondering if she would be able to recognise the boy Brandon she once knew briefly, who’d since grown into a mature man.
As Mary walked into the coffee establishment she could see six people inside; two couples and two men. The two men on their own were each sitting at their chosen window table.
Mary looked for some recognition between the two men sitting alone, and remembering the facial birthmark that Brandon had, she stood at the counter as she glanced at each man more closely.
Neither had a red patch of skin on one of their cheeks, but one did have a light facial skin blemish. Mary moved towards the table in question and sat down, much to the occupant’s surprise.
“Is it Brandon?” she asked the man opposite her.
“It is,” he replied with a broad smile, adding, “It must be Mary; that is, Mary Fanning that was!”
“Mary Fanning that was and still is!” Mary replied smilingly.
Unsure of how best to greet each other, Mary offered her hand which Brandon gently held for a few seconds before he shook it.
Over the next hour and a half, Mary and Brandon talked nonstop. Brandon did most of the talking while Mary did most of the listening.
When she returned home that evening, Mary still found it hard to take in all that had happened to Brandon during the intervening thirty years.
