Free City Girl by Patricia Scanlan Page A

had run upstairs,
her seven-year-old heart beating so quickly and loudly that the noise of it deafened her when she had buried her sobbing little face in the pillow. Tell her what? Instinctively she knew it was
something to do with her, something nasty and threatening.
    ‘It’s all right, Devlin! Your mother doesn’t know what she’s saying. She’s had a shock. Go down and make us some strong coffee like a good girl.’ Gerry
Delaney felt as if his world was crumbling around his ears.
    ‘No Dad! Wait! Why did she say that?’
    There was an unconscious pleading in her voice and then Lydia was saying wearily, ‘Oh for God’s sake Gerry tell her, I wanted to tell her long ago, it might have prevented
this.’
    Through a mist of anguish Devlin heard Lydia’s bitter upset voice tell her she was adopted.
    ‘No! . . . NO!’ Screaming, Devlin raced down the stairs, grabbed her bag and ran out to the car. ‘Oh Jesus, Jesus, don’t do this to me . . . please God, let it be a
nightmare.’ It must be a punishment for committing adultery with Colin. Why else would this be happening to her?
    As if in a dream she started up the car and saw Gerry, distraught, calling her back. Ramming her foot down on the accelerator she raised dust as she sped down the drive onto the road. She
half-hoped a car coming in the opposite direction would collide with her and send her crashing to oblivion so that she could forget the fear and aching misery that engulfed her.
    Adopted! Adopted! Adopted! The sound of the word filled her mind like loud clashing cymbals as automatically her hands and feet operated gears and clutch and brakes and she emerged onto the dual
carriageway. Lydia wasn’t her mother . . . Gerry wasn’t her father. Who were her parents? Why had they abandoned her? Were they still alive?
    ‘I hate you, I hate you,’ she sobbed aloud, great gasping shuddering sobs that blurred her eyes and made her body shake. The car behind her beeped loudly at her erratic driving and
becoming conscious of the stream of lights and the busy flow of traffic she pulled herself together and concentrated grimly on just driving.

Four
    How long she drove she did not know. She vaguely remembered the turn-off at Bray and then the traffic eased until it seemed she was the only car on the road for long lonely
miles. It was with numbed surprise that she realized she was driving into Arklow, a town about fifty miles from Dublin on the main Wexford road. Tired and disorientated she pulled in and rested her
head on the steering wheel. How had she got this far? What was she going to do for the night? Devlin checked her watch: it was almost twelve. She knew at the back of her mind why she had
instinctively come this way. She needed someone and Katie was the only one who could help her.
    Her Aunt Katie had always been close to her and given her the warmth Lydia had never been able to provide. Now she needed Katie more than ever. Although she was pregnant she knew that Katie
would never reject her as Lydia had. She’d have to ring home . . . Gerry would be frantic. Even if she wasn’t his daughter he did love her, Devlin thought, torn between bitterness and
sadness. She drove until she got to a phone box, praying that it wouldn’t be vandalized. She was in luck and she asked the operator to reverse the charges.
    ‘Are you all right, Devlin? What in the name of God are you doing in Arklow? Please pet, come home and let’s talk about all this.’ Her father sounded so upset that Devlin felt
tears springing to her eyes and her throat constricted painfully.
    ‘Oh Dad, Dad I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ In spite of herself she burst into tears.
    ‘Devlin, please check into a hotel and I’ll come and collect you. I’ll get Cecilia to come and stay with Lydia.’
    Somehow she managed to compose herself. ‘Honestly, Dad, I’d like to go to Katie for a day or two, I think I’ll carry on down to Wexford.’
    Her father sighed.