So if you remember. I was named after my biological Mother who was called Mary, as was I. I fantasised from an early age that she was actually Debbie Harry from Blondie because I sounded like her when I sang. Where that came from I have no idea but it was nice to dream. Sadly, it wasn't too be though.
I had found my biological Dad back when I was 18 and I was so mixed up in those days that everything just fell apart and I no longer saw him after that year. However, I was still determined to try and find Mary and in 1994 I decided to try again, going back to the Electoral Rolls. I eventually got a lead from someone who had worked at Carlisle Castle with Mary and they gave me her address which was in London.
I wrote her a letter and I eventually got a letter back. Apparently she was absolutely ecstatic that I was looking for her and couldn't wait to meet me. She lived in London with her Polish husband and her son Paul was now 30 and living in Florida, America. Everything sounded dreamy and I was rushed with excitement.
Mary invited me to her house in London the week after and I booked a bus to travel down on.
Something that has stayed with me all my life is a memory that I am not proud of. I was sitting at the back of the bus and Mum and Dad were waving me off. They were so happy that I was going on this journey as they knew it would help me become who I needed to be. However, when I looked back as the bus was driving off, Mum was sobbing in Dad's arms and for a second, I thought, "what am I doing, I already have my parents".. But it was too late... and off I went on my journey.
I kept applying and reapplying my make up; I must have looked like a transvestite by the time I got to the bus station. I had seen Mary's picture and knew she had dyed blonde hair and looked like an older version of me so it wasn't hard to spot her. We bonded immediately and the fact that she spoke in this very funny Cumbrian accent was even more endearing. As we went home to London, we chatted about family, exchanged family photographs, drank champagne and had home cooked food. When it came to an end, we promised to meet up again very soon.
And that was that; a very normal and lovely encounter with Mary. However, on the inside, Mary's husband Andrew didn't want her to have anything to do with me and 6 weeks later, the night before I was due to get married, I got a phone call from Mary saying that she couldn't see me anymore as Andrew didn't like it. I was absolutely distraught and felt rejected all over again.
I had an article published about the story and put in it that I would only ever hear from Mary if Andrew passed away. With a sixth sense, it seemed I was right as in 1998 the phone rang. Mum spoke to Mary who said that Andrew had passed away and she would love to see me again.... I was quite reticent of having any relationship with her at this point but something was pulling me to her and we all agreed to go and visit.
Mum and Dad were my rock at this point and Mary had moved back to her native Carlisle. When we got there to see her, she looked a shadow of her former self; no more the dyed blonde hair, but a grey concotion of unbrushed strands and a very slight frame; obviously the death of Andrew had taken it's toll.
Our relationship blossomed and I used to go to Carlisle for weekends and we became like sisters; going out clubbing and drinking together; we also picked up men and finally I could see where I got my wild streak from. Mary used to say that the reason why I attrracted the men was because we had these strange pheromones that not many people had. A load of rubbish in the end but I thought that was the truth!
It was at this point that I began to realise that Mary was an alcoholic. I was always drinking at her house but she seemed to start a lot earlier than me and always had a full wine glass. It took a while to realise but eventually I worked it out. It was only when I took a boyfriend with me who was also an alcoholic, that they two of them started making out and this was the beginning of the end.
Eventually I met my future husband and spoke to Mary to tell her that I was moving away. She took it very badly and said she didn't want to see me again. Yet again, that rejection but this time, I had matured and felt like it was sad, but that was obviously the way that she dealt with things.
Years later and happily married with three children, I always send Mary a birthday card and a Christmas card with pictures of the family. I did write to her and speak to her a few times, asking for help with our family tree. However, she did say that she never wanted to meet the children or me in the future.
I still cannot understand, as a Mother/Grandmother how you could do that?
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