The Other Breda Gulley

By Bailie Lawson

A diary written in 1919 is found in an old tenement building in Hell's Kitchen.  The writer's name is the same as that of the young Irish woman who just moved into a newly renovated apartment on the same block a hundred years later.  
Who was this other Breda Gulley?  Could they be related?   Bree becomes fascinated with her namesake's story, leading her to dig up details of Breda's life in 1919.  In the process she confronts troubling questions about her own life and is drawn into an unlikely romance with the wealthy descendent of Breda's former employer.   Together they uncover Breda's amazing secret and its unexpected impact on their families' lives a hundred years later.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bailie Lawson
• Release date: Jul 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987030417

Bailie Lawson

Bailie Lawson has always been interested in stories, both listening to them and telling them. She was born and went to school in Ireland and as an adult has lived in New York and the North-Eastern United States. She has worked as a psychotherapist and professor of psychology. She is the author of several novels including Well-Travelled Ancient Ancient Artifacts, Finding Juniper, Fanfare, The Imaginary Husband, Pixie Dust: Enchantment and It’s Consequences, Uncovering Julien's Past, Una's Journey, and Who Is Gigi?

Book preview

1

It was one thing living in Hell's Kitchen.  It was another quite mystifying thing to find that a hundred years before someone with her name coming from the same town in Ireland had lived two buildings down on the same street.  Bree had never heard of her before, but it was likely they were related.  All the Gulleys from Limerick were related.  That's what her father always said.  It took a while to wrap her head around that.

The discovery of the other Breda Gulley didn’t happen until a couple of days after Bree moved into her new apartment.    Now it was Saturday morning and she had moved in late last night and was looking at cartons waiting to be unpacked while she talked to Siobhán on the phone.

Hell’s Kitchen!  That is the name of my new neighborhood! Bree announced gleefully to her sister. 

What a name!  Is it called after that television show? Siobhán asked doubtfully.  It sounds scary.  Is it okay?  Is it safe?

It is safe enough, and it is a great neighborhood.  And it is right in the middle of Manhattan, and I love the apartment.  Besides, I can even walk to work! Bree was talking fast, excited as she glanced around at her clean bright new apartment.  

And no, I believe that is the old name for this area, probably going back more than a hundred years, so the TV show came much later.  In fact, some people call the area Clinton now.  I think people interested in gentrification of the area prefer Clinton, but the old name stuck. I'm not surprised.  I like it better.  It lends an air of intrigue and danger.

Bree was excited and happy, very pleased to have an apartment in midtown, even a tiny one, and to finally not to have to face the long subway ride north after work every day.  The new apartment was more expensive, but her recent pay increase made it affordable.

There you go again, your imagination working overtime, Siobhán laughed. 

Well, I'd better start unpacking these boxes, Bree said.  Some mundane work is in store for me today.  She laughed.  She didn’t mind the mundane work.  In fact, she was looking forward to fixing up the place and making it her own.

She put the phone down and surveyed the apartment with pleasure.  It wasn’t big but it was newly renovated, clean, and bright, with nice wood floors, and it was all hers.  Although she wasn’t unpacked yet, her few pieces of furniture were in position – in the only positions they would fit!  The bedroom was tiny and only contained the bed, a small bedside table with a lamp on top, still not plugged in and missing its shade, which was hopefully in one of the cartons.  The tiny room looked full enough without the addition of any more furniture.  Luckily there was a built-in closet on one side of the bed.  She remembered she hadn't packed any clothes hangers.  She should be efficient and make a list before she went out shopping, but she should unpack first and see what she had brought with her and what she had forgotten.

The living room was slightly bigger than the bedroom, but not by much, with a small kitchenette attached on one end.  It looked clean, bright, and spacious right now, even with about ten cartons stashed just inside the front door.  She was determined not to clutter it up, to keep that bright and spacious feel. 

Where should she start?  There were several cartons containing books.  They would remain unpacked until she could buy a bookcase.  She could push them into the corner.  She should unpack her clothes though and hang them up.  She didn’t want to wear wrinkled clothes to work on Monday.

Kieran had stayed over last night after helping her set up the bed and move in the boxes.  They had rented a truck and driven from the northern tip of Manhattan at about one AM, accompanied by his friend Johnny.  Even then it wasn’t easy finding parking on West 49th Street, but they did, and got the van emptied and returned.  Kieran and Johnny had returned it, is, while she had found towels and toothbrush which had somehow been packed in the box with the lamp which was now on the little table by the bed.

Kieran was a good guy.  She appreciated his help, knowing his job was demanding and he was probably exhausted today.  They had been together almost a year now.  Bree still had no idea if they were headed for permanence.  People say you know when you have found the one.  Well, Bree didn’t know, but things were more than fine.  She had no complaints.

They had quickly assembled the bed last night and had fallen into it exhausted leaving the cartons and a small chest in the living-room.  Bree had found the duvet for the bed and the pillows, but the sheets were in some other carton, undiscoverable in her exhausted state, so they just crawled under the duvet and slept.

Kieran had to go to work early this morning.  This was his first year working for a big law firm after obtaining his law degree less than a year ago.  He was trying very hard to make a good impression and that meant going to work on Saturdays.  Bree stumbled around sleepily while he was in the shower and finally found the box with the coffeemaker.  That was the least she could do - make some coffee.  But, of course, there was no coffee.  There were no groceries. 

The benefit of living here in midtown though was there were coffee shops all over the place, so she dressed quickly in the same sweatpants and tee-shirt from last night and walked with Kieran to one on the corner – the Blue Dime – and got two large black coffees to go while he got a latte to drink on the way to work.  She knew he would work all day.  He worked most Saturdays, trying to prove he was worthy of promotion.  Bree hoped it would stop soon.  His seriousness and focus on building a solid future made her uneasy, so she tried not to think about it.  She wanted to live in the present, have fun.

She had come back, sipped her coffee as she unpacked the few dishes Sorla and Nuala had insisted she take from the old apartment and rinsed them in the sink.   She would buy new dishes, and a couch.  It would be exciting to shop for new things.    Then Siobhán had called, so now having ended the phone call, she was sitting on the bed staring out the window onto 49th Street, enjoying being in her very own new space.

She had shared a large apartment in Washington Heights, at the northern tip of Manhattan, with two friends from Dublin off and on over the past three years.  They were good friends, there when she needed them.  She would miss them but was sure she would see them.  Their friendship was solid.  They were considering leaving New York in the next few months.  She tried not to think of that.   They had encouraged her to take the apartment in Hell's Kitchen.  They considered Bree to have more reasons to stay than they did, since she had a steady boy-friend and a serious job in your field, as Sorla put it. 

They had all known each other since their days in Dublin while students at Trinity.  Bree had studied languages, French and Italian, and had spent two years in Europe after graduation.  When she arrived in New York, all three were delighted to be reunited.  Sorla and Nuala had already found an apartment and welcomed Bree as a roommate.

She should call them, give them an update.  Nuala especially liked to sleep late on Saturdays but glancing at the time on her phone - 11 AM - Bree decided it wasn’t too early.  But to be safe she would call Sorla.  She was more likely to be up early. 

Sorla! Hi!  I'm here, safe and sound.

Everything went well, did it?  How is the apartment?

It's great.  I love it.  I can't wait for you to see it.

Yes, can't wait too.  Maybe during the week, we can meet up.

Sounds good. 

Bree hadn't meant to ask but found herself asking anyway, So are you serious about going back home?

I'm really thinking of it, Bree.  I mean, nothing is happening for me here.  I need to get serious about a career.  I don’t like my job.  I'm over-qualified.  I have nothing to keep me here.  You are in a completely different situation.

Bree had no solutions to offer but wasn’t so happy about the suggestion that she was in a different position.  She protested mildly.   Even though I like my job, I'm not sure I'm here for the long-term.  I'm not thinking that far ahead.  I will probably go back to Ireland too eventually.

What about Kieran?  Isn't that serious?  You've been together at least a year now.

Kieran is great, yeah.  Everything is really good.  It's just a big thing to think of staying here permanently.  I just don't know.

Bree didn’t like this conversation, even though she was the one who started it.  She wanted to live in the present, enjoy her new apartment and her new lifestyle.  She didn’t want to think about the future, and she definitely didn’t want to think about the past.  This carefree present was where she wanted to be.

Well, I should get back to unpacking here.  We'll talk more when I see you on Wednesday.

Finally, she started to unpack clothes and the few kitchen supplies Sorla and Nuala had insisted she take with her.  There were indeed no hangers in the closet and after she had laid her clothes flat on the bed she went out in search of hangers, coffee, and other groceries.

2

Monday morning on her way to work Bree ran into Manny on the street.  He was unlocking a flimsy door in the tall plywood fence blocking the entrance to the very dilapidated old four-story house two buildings down from her apartment.  He had somehow managed to buy it, probably for an astronomical sum of money, and had great plans for renovation.   He was accompanied by a large muscular man in a hard hat.   

Bree said a cheerful Hi and nosily peered through the gap.   The front door hung open revealing bare brick walls inside.  The windows were boarded up.  There was dust and debris everywhere.  At least the steps up to the entrance looked solid, but a huge amount of work needed to be done. 

I moved in on Saturday, Bree announced cheerfully, gesturing in the direction of her building."

Great!  You like it there? Manny asked.

Oh, yes, I love the apartment.  Thanks again for telling me about it. 

Manny nodded.  He was friendly as always, but he looked preoccupied, and soon was joined by a burly man in a hard hat, so Bree didn’t linger.

I'll leave you to it.  Have a good day!

Manny nodded.  See ya!

He was the one who told Bree that she might be able to rent an apartment on the street where he was renovating.  He was the kind of person who knew people.  He had met the owners of Bree's apartment, lawyers who lived on the two bottom floors of their building and rented out the two top floors.  Manny planned to do the same thing after the property he had bought was ready to inhabit.  That wouldn’t be for a long time, Bree thought.  He was planning on doing a lot of work himself, and this building needed a lot of work.

Manny wasn’t much older than Bree.  She thought he was not thirty yet.  He had worked in construction for a while and was studying to be an architect or already was an architect, she wasn’t sure which.  And she had no idea how he had enough money to buy the building.  He hadn't said and she hadn't asked.

They had met him at the West Side Pub – Kieran and Bree as well as Bree's friends Geraldine and Caoimhe and Kieran’s friend Johnny.  He said he liked Irish music.  On Wednesday nights some Irish musicians they knew played at the West Side Pub and Bree and her friends usually showed up.  Manny was friendly and soon joined their group. 

Manny had some Spanish background from somewhere in South America and was maybe a little bit Jewish too.   Bree thought that was what he had said, but they had talked in the West Side Pub, and it had been noisy. 

He told them about having bought the brownstone only a few blocks away from the Pub and after it was livable, he would rent out floors.  Bree had said, let me know.  I would love to live in midtown, instead of having to go back uptown tonight.  A few weeks later he told Bree that people he knew had an apartment to rent on the same street as his Brownstone and offered her their phone number.

It was perfect timing.  She had been offered a full-time job and much more money at the company where she'd worked while finishing her master's degree at Columbia.  She had started a few weeks earlier.  It was downtown and involved a long subway ride each morning on a crowded train.  She was ready for her own apartment in midtown.

Bree called and was invited to go to see the landlords and the apartment.  Claire and Bill were a middle-aged couple, dressed in jackets and shirts, crisp and business-like in their appearance, except when they talked it became apparent that they were endearingly idealistic.  They had only recently acquired the brownstone, hadn’t ever been landlords before and really wanted people we can relate to in the building.  The only other tenant was a long-time friend of theirs also from the Midwest and an actress. Bree had yet to meet her.  Apparently, the actress whose name was Petra Bancroft, kept very irregular hours.

So, Bree was invited to have tea in their large country-style kitchen overlooking a small back garden.  They skillfully learned about her time in New York, her living arrangements in Washington Heights, her job and where in Ireland she grew up.  Later, Bree thought their questioning was not unlike the friendly general chat that would happen in Ireland, where after you leave you realize the questioner now knows your entire life story and you didn’t even realize you had been interrogated. 

But the important thing was she got the apartment with a one-year lease and a rent that she could afford to pay.  She was delighted.  She could walk to work if she wanted.  She might in future, but this morning, her first morning getting to work from the new apartment, she got the subway three stops to 28th Street and then walked across the two blocks to Fifth Avenue.  She was running a little late and the subway was crowded.  She resolved to walk in future.  It would take no more than twenty-five minutes.  Avoiding crowded subways would be one of the perks that went along with living in the new neighborhood.  This would be so much fun, living in midtown.

She liked her job as a translator for Finch and Shaddock. She had been there for almost three years now, having worked there parttime while a student and then landing the full-time job right after finishing her master’s degree just two months ago. 

Before New York she had spent almost two years in Paris and then in Florence.  She loved both places but had to get away from Florence in the end and had fled to New York to her good friends Nuala and Sorla.  Only they knew this.  Everyone else heard a different version - that she would have stayed in Europe but couldn’t finance her education there.  She would agree with her new acquaintances that it had been an unusual decision to come to New York for her master’s degree, but if she wasn’t going to study in France or Italy why not New York?  She liked Ireland but she wanted more adventures.  Besides the program at Columbia had sounded excellent.  She had started to believe this version - that she had come to New York to study at Columbia.  It was a much more appealing story than the real one.

In New York she was able to find work, which slowed down her studies somewhat.  That was the truth.  But her fluency in French and Italian helped her find a job that paid decently, and she liked working at Finch and Shaddock.  When she heard they would be looking for someone full-time she applied and was hired.  Mainly she worked on translations of scholarly manuscripts, not all of which were fascinating.  But she did have a curious mind, so she wasn’t bored very often.

At twenty-six, Bree felt she was doing quite well.  It was good to be earning more money and to no longer have to worry about paying tuition.  She liked New York.  She had a nice boyfriend, and now a nice apartment.  Life was good!

Bree Gulley!   Her reverie was interrupted by Emily Landsdowne’s sudden appearance by her side. 

Bree!  You were in another world.  I was calling you for the last block.

Oh, sorry Emily, Bree mumbled.  It’s Monday morning, what can I say!  How was your weekend?  Did you spend it reading?

Emily was an assistant editor and complained about having to do a lot of reading at weekends.

A bit but not excessively, I’m glad to say.  Jodie is away until Wednesday, so I am getting a little down time.  Jodie was Emily’s boss.   How about you?  Did you have an exciting, fun-filled weekend?  This last was said with a trace of envy.

I moved to a new apartment in midtown.  I didn’t do anything else much except unpack and move furniture around, but I'm not complaining, Bree answered.

Oh, where is your new apartment?

Hell's Kitchen!  How about that!  I love the name.

Oh, that's a great neighborhood.  You could walk to work.  Lucky you.  How did you find it?

Bree told her about Manny and his passing on the information about the available apartment.  You will have to come and visit some time, she added impulsively

Emily brightened.  Yes, that would be fun.

Oh, so do you have time for lunch today? Bree asked. 

She liked Emily well enough, though she was more than a little eccentric, developing dislikes for various people at work for no reasons that made sense to Bree, but which Bree found intriguing.  She was naturally friendly and inquisitive herself, maybe a little too trusting and she found Emily's critical analysis of some of their co-workers interesting, even if she didn’t agree.  But Emily was also well-read and independent in her thinking, and Bree found their conversations interesting.  Also mysterious to Bree was that Emily had decided she liked Bree.  Emily had told her so.  Bree suspected Emily would like to be invited to join her and her friends on some of their outings, but she was uncertain about that, thinking there could be mutual disapproval, so she compromised by trying to have lunch with her sometimes, just the two of them.  Now as they hurried into the building they promised to meet later for lunch.

3

Hey Bree? 

She was struggling up the stairs with shopping bags from the grocery store when her landlord’s door opened, and Claire looked out.

Hi Claire! Bree answered agreeably.

Could you come in for a minute.  There’s something we want to show you.  Her eyes were bright and were looking at Bree with interest.

Oh, of course.  Is everything all right?  Bree hesitated, resting the heaviest bag on the stairs.

Yes, it is just something that Manny found that we wanted you to see.  Bree could hear Manny’s voice in the background.

Why don’t you put away your groceries and then come back down? Claire suggested.

Okay.  I’ll be right back, Bree said somewhat mystified.

She assumed that Manny had found something during the renovation of his rundown building - where else?  But why would they want to share this with her?  Or why would he want to show it to them?

She hurriedly put things in the refrigerator, swiped a quick drink of water, left the packages and cans of nonperishables on the kitchen counter, and ran down the two flights of stairs to the Roundtree’s apartment.

Bill opened the door immediately, as if they had been waiting for her, and she was ushered into their living room.

Immediately she spotted an old-fashioned leather ledger, dusty and dog-eared, resting on a large plastic bag on top of the coffee-table.  Manny was sitting on the edge of an armchair looking grubby, in dungarees and a red check shirt, and appeared to be sitting on a towel.  He had obviously just come from working on renovating his building.  Bree wondered whose idea the towel was.  It was obviously intended to protect the furniture from his clothes.  She noticed Manny was barefoot which explained the large dirty pair of construction boots outside the door of the apartment.

Claire looked up excitedly when she came in and said, Manny found this today hidden in the wall of his building.

Bree looked at the book/ledger and nodded.  Maybe it was written in another language, and they thought she could translate it.

It seems to be an old diary, Claire went on.  It is dated 1919.

Oh.  In the wall?

But it is the name that is amazing, Bill interrupted.  It is your name!  It was written by Breda Gulley! 

Oh!  But it couldn’t have been me!  Bree protested stupidly.  This was all very confusing.

Manny spoke for the first time.  Could it be a relative?  She is from Ireland.  I just read the first few pages, but ....

I am the first person in my family to live in the United States, Bree protested.  We couldn’t be related.  Really, did people think all Irish people were related to each other? 

Where did you find it exactly?  she asked, now becoming more curious.  It was over a hundred years old, after all.  That was interesting.

It was on the top floor.  We were testing the walls, and started dismantling an inner wall, not weight-bearing.  We want to have bigger rooms.  The wall had a brick that was loose which Len removed and there was a small hollow space behind it.  There was a box in the niche, and this was in the box, Manny said gesturing towards the book on the table.

We think it was hidden there all this time.  Isn't that amazing! Claire said, eyes shining.

Yes, amazing, Bree agreed.  I could read through it.  If you want me to, that is.  If it was written by an Irish person a hundred years ago, she would have a better understanding of the contents than any of them. 

Looking back, she was not sure why she was not more curious about the fact that this person from a hundred years ago had her name.  It had not sunk in yet, she thought.  Or she hadn't really understood yet that it was her exact name.  She thought they meant the person had a similar last name to hers.  She had dismissed immediately, even with some mild irritation, the suggestion that they could be related.  That was highly unlikely she thought then.  But then she didn’t think of herself as Breda.  She was usually called Bree except by older relatives who used her full name of Breda, and of course her landlords knew her official name was Breda Gulley, since she had written it on the lease. 

Yes, that would be great, Manny said.  I was checking with Bill and Claire and since it was on my property it belongs to me.

Unless it turns out to be an antique of national significance or something like that, Claire chimed in.

But I don't want it back, Manny interjected.  Unless I can make money from it, of course, Manny laughed.  Right now, I need as much money as I can lay my hands on.

Bree nodded sympathetically.  You took on an ambitious project.

It will be worth it, Bill said.

Manny nodded but looked skeptical.  The bank loan is killing me, and it might not be enough. 

He handed the journal to Bree.  Maybe you will find you are related, or maybe you can write a book about it, or something.  So, take it.

Bree carefully opened the dusty journal.  She saw now that it was a ledger of the old-fashioned kind used to keep accounts.  On the front page was written in faded blue script:

Private Diary of Breda Gulley,

previously of Limerick, Ireland,

now of 573 West 49th Street, New York

Eighth of March 1919

"Oh!  She’s from Limerick!  she gasped in amazement.  She looked at their uncomprehending faces.  That’s where I’m from in Ireland!"   

This put a new spin on things.