1973
Cobh, South Coast of Ireland
Ruth Musgrave rushed back from the village Spar shop, knowing her father would be counting every minute she was away. That morning, she had spoken to Kieran to explain that her father’s strict ways were not what she wanted.
‘It wouldn’t work between us,’ he’d said, while helping her pack her shopping. ‘I was absolutely terrified by Reverend Musgrave’s harsh warning to not speak to you and keep away. I need to make sure no one sees me talking to you.’
Ruth’s embarrassment had been impossible to conceal. Her face had turned red, tears had welled up, and she’d quickly left the store. Speaking to Kieran had been her only solace, but her father had forcefully denied her that, increasing her isolation.
* * *
Getting closer to the manse within its secluded grounds, she observed the imposing wall and the ominous, unlit windows. She slowed down, the weight of her shopping causing her to briefly stop and switch the bags in her hands before reluctantly continuing.
While walking back through the village, the grassy banks displayed signs of spring and new beginnings. Oh, how she dreamt of better days. What Ruth yearned for was a completely different life. To have the freedom to express her emotions without being demeaned.
The manse was just as bad on the inside. Her father kept only one room tidy for when his parishioners sought advice or announced a family loss.
To her, it was a prison, located just a short distance from the Presbyterian church. And if it were not for her mother, Ruth would never return. Annie had been affected by years of bullying, and Ruth understood her mother could not defend herself.
‘You took your time. I hope you have not been talking to that Catholic boy at the shop. Are you listening to what I am saying? I have told you before about that.’ Her father grabbed the bags from her, placed them on the table, then took out each item and checked it against the receipt.
‘Why have you bought a cake?’ he snapped. ‘We never eat cake.’
‘It is for Mam. She hardly eats, and I thought she might like a piece of fruit cake with her tea.’
He tossed his head. ‘She should eat what we eat.’ He folded the receipt and put it into his wallet. Behind closed doors, his behaviour contradicted the image he presented to his congregation as an elder pastor. ‘You should go upstairs and deal with your mother. How much more time will she spend up there?’
‘I do not know, Father. Have you asked her?’
He glared at her. ‘Her neglect of her duties is defiant, and I don’t have time for it.’
‘Have you ever considered the possibility Mam might be sick?’
‘Don’t question me, girl. Now go up and talk to her. Remind her that, as my wife, she has a duty to assist me in my ministry. And do not spend long with her. You have obligations to fulfil in the church and the house.’
Ruth let out a sigh. She knew that extremely well. Sitting with her mother was the highlight of her day, but she could not successfully lift her out of her depression. It was little wonder, given they both only received abuse and complaints.
She could not comprehend how her mother had ended up marrying someone so tyrannical. Her mother had once described him as an attractive, kind man who loved God and his church. What had happened since then, Ruth had no idea. How had her mother got him so wrong?
Ruth felt overwhelmed with sadness with all her responsibilities, from household chores to taking care of her mother since she became ill. Ruth had no life of her own.
