A Woman Undefeated (9 page)

A little later as the family sat around the fire, they were joined by their newly acquired neighbours. Their speaker introduced himself as Patrick O’Flynn and, with nods to the others, he gave their names as the O’Hara’s and the Tierneys. Patrick explained that they hadn’t made the crossing from Ireland as they had, but had all been given passage on a cattle boat which ran from Sligo to
the Dee. The captain of the vessel, God bless him, had been a fine man, who had charged them nothing, as long as they didn’t mind sharing the space with the cows. Who had cared about that, when they had free passage and a chance to settle in this fine and prosperous land?

As yet they still had to find work, but the nearest city, called Chester, was around twelve miles away, or so they had been told. This place was called Neston, or Little Ness as the locals called it, it being a few miles away from the main village beyond. They had been visited by the parish priest and a few nosey eejits who had never seen an Irishman before.

“Mebbe they expected us to have two heads or to be wielding a shillelagh, ready to beat them with it, I wouldn’t know,” Patrick had said wryly.“But we’ve been made welcome at the tavern over there and the missis was given some flatties by a local fisherman, in return for gutting the rest.”

The Mayor of the village had seemed friendly enough, Patrick continued. He had got his men to bring down some tarpaulins for them to shelter under, but had warned them that they couldn’t stay forever at the Point. He had suggested that the next time a brick cart came over from Liverpool to his quarry, one of the family’s should hitch a ride and see what work could be had over there. There was a lot of building going on in Liverpool and labourers were in short supply. Going to Liverpool was a far better prospect for everyone, than staying in Neston and living off what the Parish could provide.

Patrick had laughed as he recounted the Mayor’s words and said they were already getting parish relief of a sort. He had sent his wife out begging. She had been up to the big houses on the road out of Neston and the occupants had given her things, just so she would go away! Then a couple of his children had crept into a nearby farm and had stolen an old limping chicken and a few precious eggs, and the priest had opened his Poor box for them all as well. Of course, the money enabled the men in their number, to get acquainted with the local brew. It wasn’t as good as
the porter back home, but he was sure given time they would get a taste for it.

Patrick grinned after his explanations and winked a wicked eye, proffering a pot of the ill gotten chicken stew to the Haines’, who fell upon this bounty, greedily.

It was getting dark by the time they had finished eating their fill and, yawning heavily, made their way towards the cover that had been allocated. Maggie listened to Jack half-heartedly as they settled on the mattress together, whilst he spoke of all the opportunities that they could have. Michael said that he was just glad that they had made it to safety and Alice said she was thinking of renting a house. Perhaps she would look at that village they had passed earlier. Maybe other folk would like to stay in such a beautiful place. She could take in paying guests, seeing she was still young enough to cope with them, and Maggie could help her. Maggie took no notice of the speculations and curled herself up beneath her shawl, hoping that sleep would come quickly to take away her resentful thoughts.

Sleep wouldn’t come to Maggie, as she lay with Jack’s body pressed up against her back. Her head was reeling with sudden anger at his thoughtless action. How could he treat her as if there was nothing wrong? Taking the step of lying beside her, without asking if he could.

A week ago the Haines’ had been her neighbours. Jack had been a childhood friend, though his mother thought herself above the hamlet folk. What Jack had really done, she ruminated, was kidnap her. He had never given her the chance to turn him down. She may have gone along with the priest and been persuaded to go through with the ceremony, but Jack had only wed her because of circumstance. She would never forgive the Haines’ for dragging her away from her birthplace, nor leaving her sister behind, who she probably would never see again.

She stared up at the leafy canopy above her, when she awoke from an eventual troubled sleep. Fingers of early sunlight began to filter through the branches, as she listened to the chirping of
the little birds that sat amongst them and cows lowing in the fields behind. She sat upright, causing Jack to fall with a flop off the old mattress they were sharing. He didn’t stir, still deep in slumber. She snatched her shawl away from his shoulders, annoyed that he had pinched it, attributing his action to her cold and aching limbs. She rubbed at her feet trying to get the circulation going, thinking longingly of the boots she had left behind at the Filbeys’. Even if they had been cramped and ill fitting, at least her feet would have been warm and cosy in the damp and chilly air.

She scrambled to her feet, wincing as pain shot up her legs and pins and needles cramped her ankles, then with her shawl pulled comfortably around her, she stepped gingerly over to the sea wall.

Across the estuary, shrouded in a light mist, stood rugged, craggy mountains. It was a majestic scene, that made her hold her breath as she took in the beauty of it all. The tide was out and in the distance she could see people walking in straggly groups, or riding what looked to be little ponies, or sitting in two wheeled carts pulled by donkeys. They were coming in Maggie’s direction across the sands. She could hear the people singing, their voices rising and falling in lilting harmony. She watched in fascination, wondering at their uplifting voices, a haunting sound that she had never heard before.

A hand tentatively touched Maggie’s shoulder as she stood there. She turned quickly, irritated that someone had spoiled her pleasurable occupation, piqued because that someone was disturbing her time alone.

It was one of the Tierney family. Jimmy, the elder boy. He grinned apologetically, then joined her to watch, as the musical people rounded the headland and disappeared from view.

“Tis a wonderful place we’ve come to Missis, so it is,” he said quietly. “I’ve stood here often in the mornings since we got here, drinking in the lovely salty air and watching those mountains in all their glory. Seeing the locals grubbing in the mud flats for their crabs and cockles, or looking out to sea when the fishermen set
off on the tide. Those people you saw were from the Welsh side. Someone told me they come over for the Neston market, though they can only come across at certain times. Those gullies fill up pretty quick and I have heard there’s been a few drownings. So, did I hear you’re from Killala? We’re from Mayo. From a little town called Westport. So that’s why I’m glad we’ve come to this place, ‘cos I wouldn’t want to work in a city. Oh no, I prefer the smell of the sea air. No, city life is definitely not for me!”

Maggie glanced up at the young man and smiled at his earnest, tumbling words. For a few moments she had been lost in the wonder of the scenery and had forgotten her reason for being there. Jimmy had touched a chord in her dispirited heart, but she frowned when she remembered he had called her “Missis”. That alone was enough to bring her back to earth.

She looked over quickly to check if Jack was still sleeping. He wasn’t. He was standing a few feet away, glowering. His fists balled in readiness, it seemed he was about to lay this interloper on the floor. Panic gripped her and she wondered fleetingly if Jimmy could be the key to her escaping in the future? He had come over in the cattle boat, maybe he knew of its return. But for now it was her duty to humour her new husband, so she excused herself from Jimmy’s presence and walked slowly away.

“What do yer think yer were doing, standing there for all to see. Engaging in conversation with the young bucko?” Jack hissed at her, jealously. His cheeks were aflame with anger and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re showing me up in front of the other folk. I was mortified to wake up and see you standing there.”

Maggie felt indignant. It hadn’t been her fault that Jimmy had joined her. The unfairness of Jack’s veiled accusation fueled her indignation even more. She answered quietly, hoping to show displeasure in her words.

“Get away with you, Jack, you eejit. What’s the harm in me enjoying the scenery and listening to one who shared the beauty of the day? Am I to be yer prisoner now that I’m wed to yer?”

She walked back to their tarpaulin red faced and embarrassed,
leaving the two men to sort out Jack’s recriminations between themselves. Was this how it was going to be for the rest of her lifetime? Her every action decided upon with reference first to Jack? Not if she could help it. How was it that a few words spoken over them by the priest in Killala, gave him the right to treat her like a possession? She fumed at the injustice of it all.

She was desperate to relieve herself, seeing that the last time had been after supper the evening before, when the kind O’Flynn woman had shown her a clump of bushes to go behind. She felt anxious, though, in case Jack thought by her walking away to the coastal path, it was communicating a further determination that she wanted to be left alone. Indeed she did, wanted to be left alone by him forever, but common sense told her to be careful in her dealings with him. This was a foreign land that she had come to live in.

Maggie was saved from making things awkward by the arrival of Alice. Her mother- in- law had been setting up the kettle over the fire, which she and the O’Flynn mother had agreed to share.

“So there you are, Maggie,” she said in a friendly manner, her round, untroubled face smiling with good will as she ambled over. “Do you want to take a walk with me over to the bushes?”

Maggie agreed to the suggestion gratefully, glad for once of the presence of another woman, or at least one sensitive to bodily functions, even though she was an enemy as far as Maggie was concerned. She glanced back at Jack, who was now walking along with his father. He smiled at her and shook his head ruefully, as if he was sorry that he had accused her falsely.

On the women’s arrival back at the settlement it seemed they had a visitor. Two visitors to be exact, sitting astride their horses on the narrow, muddy track. The mayor in his official garb, with a gold ceremonial chain around his neck that glinted in the sunlight, and another man, plainly dressed in a brown striped suit, probably his bailiff.

The bailiff, a dour looking man, ordered the inhabitants of the camp to line up in front of them, neither man seemingly
surprised that there was an increase of number in the motley group. News had reached them that the Irish were leaving their homeland in droves. In fact, the mayor was amazed that there was not a lot more of them, as he had heard that a captain of a cattle boat was giving free passage from Sligo, in an attempt to aid his countrymen.

The mayor was an elderly man, rather used to good living as the straining buttons on his waistcoat showed. He was of medium height, but seemed to tower over them from his vantage point astride his horse.

“I’ve heard there has been a bit of thieving going on,” he said frowning. “And women pestering our gentlefolk for food.”

Some of the group shifted uncomfortably.

“So, I want to know all your names, how many there are of you, and perhaps someone could tell me how you think you’re going to survive down here, once winter comes along. As you can see by the leaves that are beginning to fall, the trees won’t give you shelter and the tarpaulins are only on loan. Though it is our Christian duty to help the needy in whichever way we can, our village won’t be put upon. So be warned that the wind on this headland can be bitter during winter and we’ve been known to have snow drifts as high as a man. Now, before I go, heed my next words well. You will live like saints or it will be the ASSIZES for any wrongdoer. Man, woman or child. This is a law abiding area and I mean to keep it that way!”

He shouted these last words, hoping that they would sink into the minds of the rabble, but it only caused a lot of muttering and raised tempers. A few hadn’t grasped the import of the mayor’s words, as their knowledge of the English language was poor. The O’Hara’s in particular needed a translation, as they only spoke in their native Gaelic tongue. The bailiff rolled his eyes heavenward as he listened to their jabber. They were cluttering up this pleasant outcrop with ashes from their fires, using the branches of the ancient trees for their makeshift shelters, and no doubt using the bushes as a midden, nearby.

The mayor began to speak again and a hush descended, as the people realised he hadn’t finished. Maggie could see that one or two of the women were beginning to quail at his bullish tirade.

“I had thought by now you would have moved on from these temporary shelters, but seeing as you haven’t, I have asked around the parish to see if there is any work to be had. The Brown Horse tavern in the village is in need of a pot man and Farmer Briggs could do with setting a labourer on. There is a place for someone at my quarry and I’m sure my wife could find employment in the kitchen for a clean living woman.”

He waved his hand in the direction of the mine, then continued speaking.

“I can also speak to the foreman at the coal mine, though they’ve got a few problems over there at the moment, so perhaps he wouldn’t welcome workers from outside. Or you could always find employment in Chester, though I’ve no jurisdiction there. If you don’t want to settle in the area, then you can hitch a lift on the brick cart. It goes from my quarry every morning to Liverpool, at half past five. Now, I’ll leave my bailiff to take your names, while you think on what I’ve said. I insist you make decisions for your future, or I won’t be answerable for the consequences. Now, I think I have done my part here, so I will bid you good day.”

The Irish drifted back to their fires, except for the children, who took advantage of their parent’s surly discussions, to clamber down to the shore and paddle in the oncoming tide.

Maggie sat silently with the Haines’, feeling that whatever the outcome of their deliberations, it would mean that she would be borne along with them anyway. It would have made no difference had she joined the children playing in the water, as, just like them someone else would decide what she was going to do. She watched them splashing, laughing with glee without any cares, and her thoughts flew once again to her little sister. Her eyes welled up with tears as she remembered Molly’s distressing cries. How she wished that Molly could have been among those carefree little ones. Maggie wondered idly, who it was that had decided that
Molly should stay behind in Killala? Probably Jack, as Alice being a woman would know about family bonds.