Chapter 51 - Molly
Who was Molly? Was she Mr Rochester's Giacinta from Italy? His Clara from Germany? These female characters possessed a foreignness, which Jane Eyre's English Mr Rochester could never truly be drawn to. Yet, to completely demonise one group and to aggrandise the protagonist(s), is lazy and simplistic.
Before Molly met dad, she was a single parent, living in a small terraced house in Accrington. Not long after they became a couple, they decided to move to County Kildare in Ireland. Dad knew that Molly would be content with their decision to move, because she could be closer to her Irish family. I suspect, that although she was born in Britain, she still felt like an outsider, a foreigner. She was perhaps quite similar to my mother in this respect. And like mother, Molly had experienced difficult times.
There were similarities between Molly and Sylvia too. "She's done well for herself you know. She owns a theme park called Dollywood, and does a lot for charity," Molly told me one day, taking a drag of her cigarette, and sipping black tea. Yes, like Sylvia, Molly was a fan of Dolly Parton. I was beginning to believe that many women North of Watford, whether they resided in Britain or Ireland, loved Dolly. "She's lovely. I'd do that if I had the money." Molly took another drag. She definitely did not have the money. A single mother of five, is no doubt, a difficult job.
Ireland was not a completely idyllic place for Molly. When she was a young girl, her parents took the decision to move the family back to Ireland, and it was there that Molly had her first child, a boy. She was young and unmarried and consequently did not get the opportunity to raise him. She said he was taken to an orphanage and swore that this boy grew up to be Ronan Keating. This was revealed to my father, whilst they were sitting in a rented car in Kildare. "I told your father that I'd just seen Ronan Keating board a coach, and demanded he start the car and follow it. Your dad laughed. I told him I wasn't kidding and that if he didn't start the car, I'd get out and chase after the coach on foot. He thought I was a middle-aged woman with a crush on a young popstar. I then told him Ronan was my son, but he still didn't start the car. So, I got out and tried to chase the moving coach. I ran for fifty yards, but the coach picked up speed.” Dad watched Molly, five-foot three inches, running for a short distance, and then bending over and panting. She had short black hair, and regularly wore black, baggy jumpers and black trousers; very different to Sylvia's florescent peach wardrobe. I imagine Molly wore black for her youngest, Angelica; who died aged three months. Angelica had been diagnosed as terminally ill when first born, and Molly watched over her every second of the day, until Angelica left her.
"Your dad eventually started the car and slowly drove towards me. "Are you gonna chase that frigging coach? Because if you don't, I'm not getting in," I said to him."
Dad told her the coach would be halfway down the M7 to Dublin, and offered to take Molly to a pub, to talk about Ronan. "I can't, I've not brought my teacup," she told him. Molly had abandoned Catholicism many times. She had been drawn to Mormonism and was trying to abstain from drinking alcohol. She had to believe in something. She had to believe that she would see Angelica and her eldest son again, whoever he was. "I can't have a gin and tonic without my teacup. God might see that I’m drinking booze again." They went to the pub anyway, and Molly had three gin and tonics, served in a cup and saucer, at Molly’s request. She talked about Ronan and how, not long after his birth, she left for England, with her eldest sister.