A Woman Undefeated (7 page)

As she reached the dry stone wall at the end of her journey, her eyes were drawn to the bobbing of lanterns that seemed to be clustered near her cabin. She wondered why and began to hurry, peering through the gloom ahead of her. Outside the cabin stood a horse and trap belonging to Father Daley. Her heart felt despair when she saw it. He must have been so concerned for her mother that he had driven over specially from Inishpoint, just to see how she was getting on. The priest was an important man in the eyes of his parishioners. A man to revere, as he had direct communication with God and was held in high esteem by the current owner of the acres; an earl from the landed gentry and one of the Kirkpatick clan. He had provided the priest with a manse and transport, to keep a godly eye on his tenants while he was away in his London home.

Jack came running as soon as he saw her, his face full of anxiety as he grabbed her arm. His action caused her to lose her balance and drop the mattress into the mud. Her body was shivering violently, no doubt from the bitter wind that was blowing and the terrible pain in her belly.

“What took yer so long?” he cried, his eyes awash with worry. “Yer mammy said that maybe you had gone to Filbey’s , but that was hours ago. I was just thinkin’ of coming up the track to look fer you.”

He looked down at the discarded mattress and began to raise his voice in disbelief.

“What were you thinkin’ of, dragging that thing down the track? You could have fallen into a bog or broken yer neck. I’ve been worried to death about you!”

Maggie suddenly felt annoyance. Who did he think he was? Why should he be hanging around waiting to lash her with his tongue? It wasn’t his business what she had done with her day, was it? But maybe something had happened and he was there to break the news. Was it her mammy or Molly? She began to panic and made to move away, but Jack took hold of her hand, suddenly ashamed of the temper he was beginning to feel.

“Maggie, before you go in, I have ter warn yer. The priest is with yer mammy and things don’t look good. Me mam and I took turns with sittin’ with her before he came and we had Molly up to try out her legs. I told yer mammy about us going to England and I asked her permission for you and I to wed.”

He rushed his words then. He could see that she was getting angry with him for trying to hold her back. “We’ve always liked each other, always got on well together. Don’t yer see that now we can always be together and be more than just friends!”

Jack waited for a reaction, but didn’t care for the look on her face. What did he want? Did he expect surprise or even delight, that this was the opportunity she had been waiting for? To become his wife and escape from her poverty stricken world? It was her turn to look at him in disbelief, that he had gone to such lengths to get her, by seeking permission from her dying mother and in front of the priest as well!

He hurried on, trying to press his advantage.

“Your mammy said it was her dearest wish to see us settled together..............”

Maggie snatched herself from his grip, picked up the filthy mattress and dragged it through the open cabin door. She felt a cry of anguish rising up into her throat, as she saw her mother’s palliasse, surrounded by the few people who had come to grieve for her. She heard an inhuman cry from somewhere, a rising animal cry, which caused the people in the room, to look up in
surprise, then pity, at the wild eyed girl who had just joined them. Aunt Tess stood there with Molly in her arms, Father Daley knelt at her mother’s side, Jack’s mam and dad stood together looking sad.

“Here, I’ve brought her this, let her know a little comfort before she passes,” Maggie cried in frustration, dragging the mattress over towards them.

“Father Daley, Mister Haines, fer God’s sake. Someone help me to lay me mammy on the mattress! Mammy, it’ll be all soft and cosy for yer, I brought it all the way from the Filbey farm.”

She sank to her knees heavily, whilst the two men took the mattress off her, reluctantly. It being only a gesture of kindness, as Mairi’s soul had already flown away.

“She’s gone. She’s gone, hasn’t she? Mammy, Mammy,” Maggie began to wail. “Don’t leave us now, please don’t leave us......Father, can she still hear me, does she know I came back again? Mammy, please don’t leave me now.”

Gentle hands gripped her shoulders, as the sympathetic priest tried to pull her away.

“Hush child,” he said. “Leave her now. Look she’s happy. See the sweet contentment on her face as her soul flies off to Heaven. Gone is the grief and suffering she’s had to put up with. Come now, let your Aunt Tess and Alice see to her body. Come with me and sit by the fire.”

Maggie looked through her tears at her mother’s body, seeing the premature aging brought on by the day to day shortages faced by a cottier wife, at the fading greying hair, the sallow skin the colour of parchment paper and the wasted form, so still under the blanket. Her mammy was better off in Heaven, than down here in the misery.

She allowed the priest to guide her to the hearth, where they both sat down upon the rug. The tears in Maggie’s eyes had blocked her vision and her throat was beginning to feel sore. She dashed away the tears that threatened to fall again and looked around the room feeling wretched. Someone had been busy, she
noted, had mended the fire which was now burning brightly, not smouldering as it had been before and because of this the kettle was bubbling and hissing, as no one had bothered to move it away. The priest’s communion chalice and bread bowl sat by the hearth. The wine in the chalice glistening bloodily, as the flickering fire brightened up the dismal place.

Father Daley’s words were soothing. This was the death that Mairi welcomed. She would be happy in the knowledge that her daughters would be cared for, now that she had agreed they should go away with Jack. Her troubled spirit was at peace and soon she would be reunited with Patrick, the husband that she had pined for every single day.

“What chance did she have?” Maggie muttered in response to him and then, to his surprise, she got up and staggered away. She tottered out of the cabin and into the cool air again, ignoring Jack, who was standing a few feet away, stretching out his arms so that he could comfort her; turned a deaf ear to Molly’s wails and Jack’s dad’s words of condolence and began to take measured steps along the lane. She was like a sleep walker, not sure where she was going or what she was going to do, but her troubled mind pushed her to get out of there, or she’d be chucking herself over the nearby cliff.

She walked until her trembling legs buckled, sinking onto wet grass near a coppice, where she moaned in despair. She sobbed until her ribs felt raw and aching, her mind numb as she lay curled up like a babe, not caring that her clothes were soaking and her body was shivering from the cold. Her spirit had taken a shattering and at that time she longed to lie there, until she was united with her parents in death.

The sound of footfalls came to her ears a little later, signalling the approach of someone walking up the track. She had rolled herself into a hawthorn thicket, wanting to conceal herself and her misery from any passerby. Father Daley called her name softly, no doubt trying not to frighten the girl, but hearing his voice caused resentment. He would take her back, make her face the future and
she wasn’t ready for that. She lay there struggling with her conscience, but had she any option left?

“Maggie,” cried Father Daley, firmly. “I know you’re around here somewhere. Come out and we’ll talk. No good comes of grieving on your own.”

He stayed patiently waiting in the darkness, listening for a crack of twigs or branches to show that she had agreed to his command. He was glad when she trudged across to meet him, where he gathered her into his arms in his endeavour to give his sympathy.

“You’ve a lot of pain to bear, my child,” he said, once her weeping had started to abate a little.

“Two parents gone in the space of a month and a little sister to care for. But with the help of God you’ll find that time is a great healer. And isn’t it great that Jack is willing to marry you and take you into his care?”

Maggie felt beaten. The priest was a kind man and would only do what he thought was best for the members of his congregation. He obviously thought that marrying Jack was the correct and proper thing to do. She nodded her head against his chest in despair. It would have been a sin to argue with him, even if she had got the strength.

“The grieving gets easier, so I’m told, Maggie,” he continued, “and your loss will be quicker to get over once you’re settled in matrimony. You won’t have time to think when you’re caring for your husband and a family.”

“Tell me Father, was it Jack that asked you to marry us?”

She needed to know if Jack had been plotting to get his own way.

The priest nodded.

“Did my mammy say anything to you about it as well?”

“Why no, Maggie, your mother was in no fit state to talk to me when I came over today. It was Jack who told me of your mother’s wishes. Why, what is it that’s troubling you?”

His thin tired face showed his concern.

“Is it because you feel it’s indecent to marry, when your mother has just passed on?”

She hesitated before she answered. She knew that Father Daley had seen so much misery and death recently, with families split up and even murder committed for a bellyful of food.

Marrying her to Jack would bring some light relief from the dismal duties he daily performed.

“I feel it would be more of a sin for you to travel unmarried,” he admitted, “especially with two single men and Jack’s father in the boat to England, even if Alice, Jack’s mother, will be there. There will be times when you might see things that aren’t for the eyes of the young and innocent, so I’m thinking that the perfect solution is for you and Jack to wed. He told me you would be leaving in the morning with them. And please don’t worry about the burial of your mother without you. I’ll see that she has a decent Christian funeral and is laid to rest with your father. Jack and his dad are putting together her coffin, even as we speak, child.”

Maggie waited to feel the familiar stab of anger at Jack’s interference, but surprisingly she only felt a sense of helplessness. If marriage to Jack had been her mother’s dying wish, well so it had to be. It had begun to dawn on her that all hope of staying in Killala was being snatched away. She wondered for a fleeting moment, would it be a mortal sin to rush back up the track and take sanctuary at Widow Dockerty’s? She was certain to be made welcome there.

But the priest’s hand was firmly guiding her towards the cabin. She was a prisoner. A captive of her religion. No say in her future or control over her destiny.

Alice Haines, wife of Michael, mother to Jack and Seamus, was a doughty little woman who only wanted the best for her family. For fifteen years she had lived in the little cottage near the hamlet of Killala, while Michael worked as a gillie on the local Kirkpatrick estate.

Always in the back of her mind she knew the family could do better. She had taken a nosedive in status when she had married the charming Mickey Haines, twenty two years earlier, having been an assistant cook at a place in Westport. He had been working then for the big house on the outskirts, but unfortunately the old earl had died and the heir to the title let a lot of the staff go. Now the same thing was happening on this estate. The Kirkpatrick’s didn’t invite their house guests like they used to, when friends would come over from England to hunt and fish. They preferred to amuse themselves in London, after hearing, to their dismay, of the indigenous unrest. It wouldn’t be long before Michael got his marching orders and the cottage they lived in was taken away. It was time for Alice to grasp her opportunity and grab the cooperatively owned boat that was lying idle on the shore. It was there for the taking by the Haines family. Who else was left who could manage a small boat on the seas or River Moy?

This was the chance that Alice had been waiting for. They could sail to a new life far away. It was just convincing Michael and her boys of it. Her easy going husband, Michael, was not a problem, he thought that they could live off the fish in any sea.
Seamus, her youngest child at fourteen, could be swayed to her intention anyway. It was her handsome son, the fair-haired Jack that she might have trouble with. He wouldn’t be happy leaving his homeland and saying farewell to his drinking friends.

Alice had wrung her hands at Jack’s recent behaviour. She seemed to have no control over him nowadays. It was his cronies in nearby Ballina that seemed to call the tune. Jack had built up a reputation of being a “hard man.” His work in the quarries at Foxford had given him muscles, he was tough looking and strong. Word had got round that he would fight any man for a prize winning purse. There were many takers, but luckily Jack always won. He loved the admiration from his fellow workers, loved to be the centre of attraction, but he spent most of his winnings in the ale house, treating the hanger-ons.

Alice knew, though. that Jack had an “Achilles Heel” in the form of Maggie. She knew he had a gentle side and had always said that if he ever married, it would be to this young and innocent girl. He admired her devotion to her family, her determined spirit and tomboy ways. Not like some of the women he had come across, who used their feminine wiles and coquetry to try to snare him.