Dreams Can Come True (10 page)

“Jack, I feel very humbled when I take a look around me. It could have bin us if you’d not taken your chances the way that yer did. Though until today I would certainly not have admitted it, yer did me a favour when ye dragged me off to a foreign land.”

He laughed out loud then and slapped his hand on his thigh with delight at what he was hearing. He kissed her quickly on the cheek and she noticed that a tear had come into his eye.

“You made me the happiest man alive when yer took me back again, me darlin’. It was a dream come true fer me, when yer decided to forgive the way yer did.”

They arrived at Longford in the early evening, having lunched in Mullingar, while Keva had gone off to deliver a parcel to his customer at a farm. He had left them to sit on the shore of Lough Ennell, where they had finished off the remains of a cold chicken provided by the Shelbourne Hotel.

The skies were growing dark as the carriage pulled up outside the “Pot of Gold” tavern, a small creeper-covered building on the edge of a deep silent glen. Keva jumped down to inquire of the landlord if there were any rooms available, then came back to tell them there was one, but he himself would have to doss down in the tap room. He didn’t mind, he was used to sleeping on a washing line, but there was no way that he was going to risk life and limb by continuing on in the dark! And Rebel needed to rest as he was all aquiver again. Not that Keva was worried about being set upon by foot pads or vagabonds, as he told his weary passengers, but it was remote and desolate terrain on the way to Ballaghadreen and they would need daylight to see that they kept to the road.

The landlord of the small but homely hostelry gave them a cheery welcome, setting his wife to preparing a meal of soda bread and mutton for his unexpected guests. The bedroom they were given was tiny, no bigger really than their storeroom at Selwyn Lodge. The rickety bed was just big enough for all three of them to share. Hannah couldn’t believe that there was no bathroom provided by the tavern, just some scummy water in a basin and a chamber pot in full view! Jack, sensing her discomfort, suggested he join Keva. His daughter had been brought up very differently from the surroundings she was experiencing now.

“You’d have bin horrified to live in me old place, Hannah,” remarked Maggie, as she rummaged around in their trunk to find a nightdress each for them to wear. “With an old palliasse to lie on and that was on a mud-packed floor. The only time we had a bath was in the river and that was usually once a year. It makes me shudder just to think of how we used to live, compared to the luxury we live in now.”

“I don’t know how you managed it, Mother. I’d die if I had to live in the squalor you must have lived in. Though what could you expect, if what Papa was saying was true, that you had to rely on your landlord to provide housing and such things.”

“We didn’t know any different. We were brought up in the cottier system, where we rented land and relied on the potatoes to give us our food. Oh, there were many other people better off than we were. The farmer that I worked for, for example, my friend who had her own cottage and the inhabitants of Ballina, the artisans and the shop keepers. But you just made the best of the life you were given and most of the time we were happy. It wasn’t until I was fourteen and went to work at the Filbey’s, that I realised we were having such a miserable existence down in Killala. Then the blight affected our crop. And yer know the rest of the story, yer father took me off to be his wife.”

“Were you happy, Mother, when Papa took you away from Killala? Michael told me once when we were younger that you missed your birthplace greatly and didn’t know where your sister had gone.”

“Tis true enough, Hannah. I mourned for me homeland for ages after and it wasn’t until Michael was born that I felt settled. He seemed to replace the need I had, to be lookin’ after a little one like I used to look after Molly. But I know she’s well and cared for, someone told me where she had gone.”

“How old would your sister be now? Perhaps she’s married and got a family of her own.”

“She was three when I left Ireland, so she’d be twenty three or four. Not much older than you are really. I do hope she’s found someone considerate and kind if she did marry. Come, we’ll go and see what the landlord’s wife has provided fer our dinner, then we’ll leave the men to their drinkin’ and you and I will retire.”

“So what brings yer to Longford?” inquired Jimmy Naylor, the dark-bearded landlord of the Pot of Gold. Maggie and Hannah had gone up to their bedroom and the three men were talking alone. He passed Jack a jug of the local brew and topped up Keva’s glass of whisky that he had already started on.

“We don’t have many passin’ travellers, just the labourers from the Fanshaw estate and the odd tinker now and again. Keva here, of course has been known ter visit, but we’ve not seen him in a while.”

“We lived in Mayo until twenty years ago,” Jack explained, settling himself comfortably on the settle near the fire. “Both our parents were cottiers, but as you’ll know fer yourself it was either emigrate or die. We got the chance ter go ter England and that’s where we settled. At least me wife did, I’m a bit of a wanderer and spent some time in Chicago, but as they say, ‘ Love conquers’, so I felt meself being drawn back ter me wife again. Then as time passed by we had a hankerin’ to visit our homeland again and here we are, but it seems very different from when we were here before.”

“How so? I’ve bin here eighteen years and nothin’s changed much. Well, yes we’ve had a new land owner, but we never see him. This one changed a lot of things through his agent, but we never had the cottier system round here anyway, everyone worked fer the estate.”

“It was different in Mayo. In Killala people rented their own bit of land. That’s why they were so hard hit when the potato crops failed.”

“And why there’s bin uprisings ever since,” broke in Keva bitterly. “But how can ordinary folk take on the might of those that have got the power? I know I tried it meself along with others, but I was left a broken man.”

Both Jack and Jimmy looked in surprise at Keva, but the man continued. Seemingly the whisky had loosened his tongue.

“I was one of those at the battle of Widow McCormicks. Jimmy here knows all about it, as his son Danny was there as well. Where did they send him, Jimmy? Australia. A boy of barely sixteen. Me, they banged up in Dublin Jail for a year or so. I wasn’t one of the main players, though they brought in people who said I was. But I maintained I was passin’ by with a delivery and just got caught up with all the fightin’, and my employer kept sayin’ that that was so. I’m no hero anyway, I left that to the likes of O’Brien and Meagher, but I couldn’t stand by and see all those half starved people when Ireland was exportin’ food, instead of feedin’ their own.”

“It’s best ter keep yer head down, Keva. I’ve told yer that before. Get on with yer life and leave the rebellion to the youngsters. Nothing will change in Ireland, because of the system that we have here.”

“It’s a system that needs changing though,” said Jack, heartily sorry for the landlord who seemed to have accepted that he would never see his son again. At least Mikey was in a peaceful place with his regiment in India, so they knew they would see him again one day.

“Yes and it
will
be changed by these young Fenians that are causin’ mayhem at the moment in all corners of Ireland,” Keva continued, passing his glass over to Jimmy for another refill. “The government will listen when disruption is caused to their railways and telegraph links and when the Fenian Army arrives from America.”

“So that was what the fundraisin’ was all about when I lived in America. To help recruit an army to send over here?”

“Well, yes and to raise the money to send arms across. There was quite a surplus of guns ter be had after the American War.”

Keva suddenly turned around and looked over to the kitchen doorway. He lowered his voice, asking Jimmy, were there still folk around?

“There are spies everywhere,” he said dramatically. “Government spies. The man yer thought was yer friend could be one. Who’s in the kitchen, Jimmy? Yer wife? You, Jack. What side would you be on, now that you’ve abandoned yer homeland for the enemies’? What are you doin’ in Ireland, I’d like ter know?”

“Come on now, Keva,” remonstrated Jimmy, as he could see Jack sitting there looking embarrassed. “You’ve had enough ter drink fer one evening. This man is employing you to drive him and his family to their destination. And I’m sure he’ll be payin’ yer well.”

“No, I’ll answer his question, Jimmy. Yes, I am a Fenian sympathiser, Keva. Wouldn’t anyone be who had ter leave their homeland ‘cos of the famine and no help offered from those who rented yer the land? But I’ve done with fighting. I was a pugilist fer many years, earned me livin’ at it and when I was in America I gave towards the fund. But me rule in life is to never get involved in politics. Nor join in discussions about religion or the Queen. I’m just thankful that I can go about me business back in England, without lookin’ over me shoulder fearfully all the time. And Keva, I’m certainly not a government spy, I believe in freedom fer everyone.”

“Sure I was just testin’ yer, Mister. Sorry, Jimmy’s right. Too much of the nectar. I’ll say goodnight and bed down over there.” And Keva lurched unsteadily to the mattress that Mrs. Naylor had earlier put down.

The drizzly rain set all hearts plummeting the next morning, as the carriage continued on towards Ballaghadreen. The scenery was one of desolation, with mile upon mile of peat bog and open moor. The small hamlets they passed through were deserted. Grass and weeds grew entangled around dilapidated cabin doors. The carriage moved slowly with Keva hunched over the reins, as he suffered from a dizzy head, each pot hole in the road causing him to wince with sudden pain. Rebel ambled with his head down, only making an effort if his master’s whip reminded him of what he was there to do. Both human and animal were saturated, neither with adequate covering to keep out the very wetting rain. Not so his passengers, nor the remaining parcels. The Haineses were snug inside beneath a blanket, a tarpaulin covered the trunk and Keva’s precious goods.

Conversation inside the carriage was scant. Jack was feeling bilious having overdosed on the local brew. Hannah felt similar, although not for the same reason and Maggie wished she was back in Neston. There were so many things she wanted to do back home. Home. She had spent more years of her life in England than she had in this country, Ireland, the place that she had always thought of as home. It came to her then that it wasn’t; it was just the place where she was born. It was situation and circumstance that decreed she was to grow up in Killala. The elder daughter of cottiers, she had known what it was like to be poor. But now, thanks to Miss Rosemary she was wealthy and making this trip back to Ireland seemed somehow all wrong. What was she going to find when they reached their little hamlet? Her mother, friends and sister would all be gone. It was dragging up the past for no good reason, better if they had stayed in Llandudno with its genteel buildings and golden sands.

The carriage suddenly lurched and juddered and the occupants were thrown onto the floor. Rebel neighed indignantly at whatever had caused his delay.

“What’s going on?” shouted Jack angrily, as he picked himself up and helped Maggie and Hannah up again. He craned his neck through the window to find himself staring into the barrel of a well-polished rifle.

“Good morning, Sir, Ladies. Sorry to have to inconvenience you on your travels, but I would like you to disembark from your carriage while we carry out a search.”

Two soldiers, their helmets and capes running with water from the continuing rain, sat astride their horses beside the carriage. Keva had jumped down in terror and was waiting for his chance to run, but the soldier who hadn’t spoken yet had his rifle trained on him.

“We have information that weapons are being transported along this route, so our orders are to stop all vehicles that pass along this way.”

“So that gives yer leave ter stop law-abiding citizens and search their possessions. Is that what yer tellin’ me?”

“Look Sir, we can do this politely or we can cause offence. You choose. But I insist you get down from the carriage, though we will allow the ladies to sit out of the rain. You, driver, get up aloft and start handing down whatever is under that cover.”

Keva rushed to do as he was ordered. First the trunk was passed down to Jack and then the three oddly-shaped parcels; one a bolt of fabric for a farmer’s wife, another a replacement head for a pitchfork and the third a shiny large kettle. The soldiers grunted their apologies after searching through their trunk and told Keva to be quick about reloading and to get the carriage on its way.

Throughout this, Maggie sat with Hannah, silently fuming. The indignity of having to show the contents of their luggage, especially her and Hannah’s underwear, was an unwelcome intrusion into their lives. She could feel the familiar red mist starting to appear in front of her eyes. She began to get up from her seat, gathering the folds of her skirt to her so that she could easily manage to jump down, but Jack put his hand up to stop her. He knew what Maggie could be like when her temper was aroused.