The Woman from Kerry (25 page)

‘And the noise, John?’

John nodded.

‘And the heat, and the smell and the spray of water to keep the fibre moist,’ the doctor added, deliberately raising his voice.

John nodded and looked slightly sheepish.

‘Well, I’m glad to say there’s nothing wrong with your lungs. I can’t tell about your hearing, but it doesn’t usually deteriorate this quickly. It’s probably a result of the last week and will improve with rest,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘But you’ve had a warning,’ he said, looking
severe. ‘Never, never again, if you want to live, come out of those rooms with your clothes wet and walk home in the cold night air. I’ve know men do that, catch pneumonia and be gone in three days,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘Fortunately, you’re made of tougher stuff and you’re not half-starved. But be warned. Keep dry clothes at your work and get into the fresh air at the meal breaks. Stay in bed today, stay in the house tomorrow, and don’t go back to the mill till you have your full strength. A week if you can afford it. If you’re not on your feet in three days send for me again,’ he said, putting his stethoscope back in his bag and snapping it shut.

Rose shut the bedroom door behind them. As he washed his hands in the water she’d left ready at the kitchen table, she offered him a cup of tea.

‘Sadly, I must say no. I remember the last one I had here, by your bright fire. How is the little one. Sarah, was it?’

‘It was indeed. My goodness, what a memory,’ she said, beaming at him.

‘I try, but old age plays havoc with it. Especially after a short night,’ he said, as he picked up the clean towel and dried his hands vigorously.

‘It was a woman in labour. My neighbour, Thomas, told me,’ she said, tentatively.

He nodded briefly and Rose didn’t ask the question shaping in her mind, for his face told her quite clearly the woman had not survived.

‘Your good man should feel better quite soon. Plenty of spring water and food when he wants it, but not until he asks. It’s a pity about the partnership with Thomas,’ he said sadly. ‘I heard what happened to them. It sometimes makes me despair that men can behave in such a way, making enemies to fight when there’s enemies in plenty round every corner. But illness and poverty are not as exciting as waving banners and playing soldiers,’ he added bitterly.

He picked up his half crown from the table and put it in his pocket.

‘I hear you’re a loss yourself to the healing profession. It doesn’t surprise me.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, totally surprised by his remark.

‘The Matron of the Infirmary’s an old friend of mine. She was rather impressed by the way you coped with Thomas’s injury. She thinks he’s lucky to have survived.’

‘Thanks goodness he did. He saved me last night. I was wild with worry.’

‘’Tis a weakness of women, I fear. Yet it usually comes from love, so I tend to forgive it. Even when it causes me a mite of trouble,’ he added with a dry smile.

He opened the door and the bitter cold air touched her face.

‘You did right to call me, but you’ve no cause
for worry today,’ he said, reassuringly. ‘You must think ahead, however. The spinning rooms can cost a man dear.’

John’s recovery was much as Dr Lindsay had expected. At Rose’s insistence, he took a week at home, despite the fact that he felt perfectly well after three or four days.

She found it strange to have him all to herself in the morning hours. Once he was on his feet again, he wouldn’t sit idle, but helped with her work and fetched water from the well. After a day or two, the weather changed again. Suddenly, it was warm enough to sit on the wall of the back garden where he’d set a broad plank in cement to make a seat for them beyond the shadow of the house.

Sitting there one afternoon, she decided the time had come to share what she’d been thinking about, ever since he’d come home and collapsed on her.

‘Ye’ve it all worked out in yer head, haven’t you?’ he said, looking at her in amazement, when she’d finished.

‘Yes,’ she agreed, laughing. ‘I have to admit it. I’ve been thinking about it ever since Sam’s visit. I even made some calculations a month or so ago. But it was the day you slept the clock round it really came to me. I know you were glad to get the job, John, and I know we can be careful, like Doctor Lindsay advised us, but I don’t want you going on
at the mill, year after year. I think we’ll have to find some other way of earning our living that’s better for you, and better for all of us.’

They sat in the sun, the insects now busy with the flowers that had bloomed in the sudden warmth.

‘So when would you see us goin’?’

‘It’ll take a year at least to save up enough for the fares, more if we have a bad winter like the one before last,’ she said easily. ‘And maybe five to six months for rail fares and something to keep us going while you see what’s best for you.’

‘An’ woud ye think the childer could face it?’

‘They’re growing up fast, John. Even Sarah is no baby. I’m sure they’d be sad to leave wee friends and the place they know. But then, so will we. It can’t ever be an easy decision, but I think we should consider it as a real possibility.’

‘Rose dear, there’s no considerin’ to be done. You’ve always shown me the way when I couldn’t see any way meself, like when we were put out at Annacramp. Tell me what ye want an’ I’ll do what I can to help.’

‘What I most want, John, is for you to stay well,’ she said, touching his cheek. ‘You gave me an awful fright.’

‘Sure I think I frightened m’self, Rose. I’ve niver been as sick as that in me life. When Thomas lifted me up off the floor, I couldn’t have got up if ye’d paid me.’

They sat silent for a little.

‘Will we tell the children d’ye think?’ John asked tentatively.

‘No, love,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘We’ll not tell
anyone
. We’ve a fair way to go. We don’t know what lies ahead of us that might hold us back. We’ll wait till we’re ready to buy the tickets.’

‘It’ll be a wee secret, Rose,’ he said grinning. ‘Sure we’ve not had many of those, have we?’ he laughed. ‘An’ then again, sure if it didn’t come off, we’d be none the worse, for nobody knowed in the first place.’

A year later, on Easter Monday, Rose and John took the four children up to Todd’s field, a steeply sloping meadow where generations of children had trundled their Easter eggs. It was a wild, blowy April day, full of great towering white clouds, but there was no cold in the breeze that caught Rose’s skirts and threw Hannah’s long dark hair across her eyes.

‘What’s the prize, Ma?’ said James, as she opened her bag and handed them each a hard-boiled egg.

‘It’s a surprise,’ she said, laughing.

‘They’re yellow, Ma. How did you do that?’ asked Sarah, as she examined her egg carefully, her brow furrowed in concentration.

‘James and Sam collected whin blossom for me over in Robinson’s bog,’ Rose began, ‘where the rocks break through at the far end. They got a few scratches between them,’ she said laughing again and turning to the boys as they eyed the slope. ‘It takes a lot of blossom to fill a can.’

‘And then you boiled it up?’

‘That’s right,’ said John, looking down at her. ‘Same as last year, but they were brown then.’

‘That was tea leaves,’ she said firmly.

All around them children were rolling their eggs down the steep slope, the air full of cries of triumph or despair.

‘Now remember,’ said John, ‘not too hard. And don’t throw. Only whole eggs win prizes.’ he said, settling himself on the grass beside Rose.

‘Best of three, Da,’ said Sam.

‘Best of three, it is then,’ he agreed, taking four small pieces of stick from his pockets. ‘Whose doing marker?’

‘I am,’ said Hannah, ‘Sam did it last year and James the year before.’

‘Right then, off you go.’

They sat for a while, watching the four children organise themselves and pick a spot where their eggs wouldn’t collide with anyone else’s as they rolled down the slope. James gave the signal and all four children launched their eggs downhill, running after them and encouraging them as they slowed down.

‘James has got tall, hasn’t he?’ said John, as they watched him come back up the slope.

‘And he looks more like you every day,’ she replied, as she saw him stoop to pick up a small child who’d fallen over.

‘Who’s Sarah like?’ he asked suddenly, as he watched her retrieve her unbroken egg from a clump of grass.

‘Like herself, I think,’ she replied. ‘She’s nearly as tall as Hannah and she’s only six in June. She’s already passed Sam at school, in reading anyway.’

There was a whoop of glee from the slope as Sam’s egg far outstripped anyone else’s on the second throw. Hannah looked crossly at her own egg and went and changed Sam’s marker.

‘They seem so happy here, Rose. Are we right, d’you think, to take them away?’

‘If I were sure they’d go on being happy, I might say no. But it’s not just for the children that we’re going. You’ve had a good year, I know, and not been ill again, but we can’t depend on that. And there’s your hearing to think of as well. Sometimes by Saturday you can’t hear me properly if you’ve had a lot of work indoors.’

‘Aye, you’re right. There’s times I coulden stick it at all if I thought there was no end to it,’ he admitted, turning his head away to look out over the green countryside in the direction of Cannon Hill, where the obelisk was just visible in the clear light.

‘How are we doin’ with the money?’

‘Better than I expected. I planned to save so much a week, all being well. Then I deducted a bit for emergencies, but we haven’t had any, thank God. We’ve the full passage money and a bit more.
The summer should give us all I’d allowed for.’

‘So, we’d be lookin’ at September?’

‘All being well, yes.’

A huge cheer went up from the slope below. Sarah had outstripped them all on the third roll. Hannah had her turn and fell short in a clump of grass, the boys did their best, but Sam’s egg hit a stone, and James’s just failed to match Sarah’s carefully planned effort on the smoothest piece of slope she could find.

Rose and John clapped hard and as the children raced back up the slope towards them. Rose brought out the buttered scones and the bag of sweets she’d brought for a prize.

‘Eggs first,’ she said, as she held out a paper bag for the discarded yellow shells. ‘Here you are, Sarah. Well done,’ she said, giving her a kiss and handing her the bag of sweets.

Sarah beamed with delight, opened the bag and peered inside.

‘You first, Ma. Then Da,’ she said, as she held out the bag towards them.

‘That was a great day, Rose. I wish we had more like it,’ John said wistfully, as they sat by the fire in the quiet hour they so enjoyed before they themselves went to their early bed.

‘I was thinking we might take them to the seaside in June,’ she said quietly.

‘And how would we do that?’ he asked.

‘I hear the Methodists are planning an excursion to Warrenpoint. The children were told about it in school. Everyone’s welcome, though I think the Methodist children go free. They say it’ll be a shilling each, but we’ve done so well, we could manage it. The biggest expense would be your losing a day’s pay, but I’d love us to go. Sure, when did you and I last see the sea?’

‘A brave while ago, now Rose.’

‘Maybe if we’re planning to cross the ocean, it would be a good thing to take them to the sea,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Though Warrepoint’s hardly the Atlantic,’ he went on. ‘It’s better than nothin’. I’ll certainly ask for the day off. Is the date settled yet?’

‘Yes, it is. Twelfth of June,’ she said with a little smile.

‘Ach is it? Your birthday and Sarah’s,’ he said, delighted. ‘Sure, wouldn’t it be worth a week or two’s savings for such a big day. That’s settled then. I’ll put in a word with the foreman tomorrow.’

Two weeks before the ‘big day’, as all the family came to call it, she bought the tickets from the young Methodist Sunday School teacher in her drapers in English Street. An old friend, she’d been buying her fabric and trimmings from him since he’d begun to serve his time.

‘Good news, Mrs Hamilton,’ he said, as he took
the small rectangles of cardboard from a box under the counter. ‘They’ve dropped the price to tenpence and children are going for half. A few more pennies for ice-cream and rock,’ he added, as he counted out the tickets.

‘That
is
good news,’ she said warmly. ‘I really had to think twice about it. Six shillings
is
a lot of money.’

‘You’re right there,’ he agreed. ‘I think many people felt the same. It’s been non-stop since the price came down. This is my third box of tickets and I’ll have to ask my superintendent for more. They’re nearly gone. Let’s hope we get a lovely day, there’s been a right few wet ones recently.’

The tickets were viewed excitedly when she got home. Sarah insisted in reading every word of print aloud, wanting to know what
Non-transferable
meant and why it said
Available only on day of issue
. Hannah asked if there was going to be a band. She’d heard the Methodists had engaged The Royal Irish Fusiliers to walk them to the station. James and Sam asked if they could go and see the engine before they left.

She did her best to answer their questions, make appropriate promises, and keep their excitement within bounds. She was anxious lest they be sadly disappointed, but it was she herself who had the biggest disappointment before the day came.

‘No go, I’m afeerd, Rose,’ said John, the previous
Friday evening, as he handed her the envelope with his wages. ‘Yer man was sorry himself, said his own wee ones was goin’ with his missus, but there’s two new looms goin’ in that day, so I have to be there,’ he said sadly. ‘Now don’t worry about the new looms,’ he went on quickly, when he saw the look on her face. ‘Two looms is only a few hours work, an’ sure it’s summer. I’ll not take any harm, I promise you. But I’m sorry I can’t come. Can ye get a refund for the ticket and have a few more
ice-creams?
’ he suggested, trying to put a good face on it.

Rose hid her own disappointment. She wasn’t going to spoil the biggest outing the children had ever had. She entered into all their plans, discussed what they would take in their bag of food, whether they would have to wear their shoes or not and how early they’d have to get up to be in good time for the ten o’clock departure.

In the event, all the children were awake before she and John had stirred at half past six and they were all ready to leave by eight o’clock.

‘Go and say hello to Thomas,’ she said, wanting a few minutes by herself to collect her thoughts.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen, trying to think what she might have forgotten. The tickets were safe in her purse with some money. Hannah and Sam had already taken charge of the two bags of food.

‘Of course,’ she said, bending down to the fire and beginning to rake the hot embers to the centre. ‘Not a good idea to come home to no fire when we’re all tired and wanting a cup of tea,’ she said to herself, as she covered the hot embers and made sure they were thoroughly damped down.

She got up, brushed the fine flecks of dust from her best skirt and went and looked at herself in the bedroom mirror.

‘Happy birthday, Rose,’ she said, as she tidied away a few stray threads of hair and adjusted the stand up collar of her blouse.

She touched the little brooch her mother had pinned inside the blouse she was making for her when she died. A simple brooch. More of a pin really. A thin bar of gold supporting a single red stone. It looked so pretty against the white of her finest cambric blouse.

‘Thirty-six, today, and no grey hairs yet,’ she said aloud, laughing at herself as she put her comb in her bag, checked that she had handkerchief as well as purse and went to collect the children from the forge.

Although it was not yet nine o’clock, the station was full of people. Traps and carts were arriving every few minutes and dropping families and little groups of friends. There was a long queue at the ticket office. Some people must have decided at the last
minute when they saw how glorious the day was going to be.

Rose had never seen so many people she knew all in one place, not even at church.

‘Ma, when’s the band coming?’ asked Sarah.

‘Can we go up and see the engine first?’ James countered.

She looked at the station clock and reckoned that the Methodists would hardly leave their hall in Abbey Street before nine-thirty for the walk to the station.

‘Yes, we’ll go and see the engine now. Then we’ll come back here for the band. All right?’

To her surprise, a long row of carriages was already standing at the platform and she had to give up their tickets to get through the barrier. But the collector promised they could have them back again if they wanted to see the band.

‘Isn’t it a long train,’ said Sarah, eyeing the carriages, some of which were already occupied. ‘It wouldn’t go without us, would it?’ she added anxiously, as they walked along the platform.

‘Can’t go anywhere without steam, Sarah,’ James said, reassuringly as they came level with the engine.

Sitting in the dazzling sunshine beyond the shelter of the roof that arced over the platform, the engine gleamed in the sun. Rose looked from James to Sam, anticipating the pleasure John had so often told her about after one of their visits to the engine sheds on his Saturday half day.

To her surprise, they said nothing and stood watching the driver and the fireman who were talking together, it being far too soon to raise steam.

‘It’s a very handsome engine isn’t it?’ she asked, as the boys bent down to study the wheels.

‘Yes,’ said James, thoughtfully, ‘but it’s not very big.’

‘Maybe they’re goin’ to bank it,’ suggested Sam.

‘What’s that mean?’ said Sarah sharply.

‘They put another engine at the other end to push it up the hills,’ explained James. ‘You often see two engines with goods trains.’

‘But there aren’t any hills on a railway line, are there Ma?’ said Hannah.

Rose hadn’t thought about that one. She looked at James.

‘Are there hills?’ she asked.

‘Yes, but they don’t look like hills,’ he replied steadily. ‘They’re called gradients. The Warrenpoint line has some steep ones, much steeper than on the line we see going to Portadown and Belfast.’

‘Can we go back to hear the band now, Ma?’ Hannah asked, as she saw Sam take out his notebook and write down the number of the engine.

Just at that moment, the driver caught sight of them. He leant down from his cab and smiled at the little group inspecting his engine.

‘Good mornin’ ma’m. Lovely day for your excursion,’ he said amiably.

‘Yes, indeed,’ Rose replied. ‘My boys are admiring your engine.’

‘Aye, a great wee engine. Have ye got her number, lads?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

When they said their goodbyes, she was grateful to walk back under the shade of the platform roof. She was beginning to feel very hot indeed standing in the sun, the light reflecting back from the engine and the acres of railway lines that crossed and recrossed outside the station.

The platform had filled up and they had some difficulty passing through a crowd of dignitaries milling around outside the only first class carriage on the train. From some distance away, they could hear the sound of the band.

‘Ma, the train’s near full. If we don’t get in, we’ll not get seats,’ said James, surveying the carriages as they passed.

‘There’s Aunty Mary,’ cried Sarah, waving her hand at a familiar figure four or five carriages away. Mary turned as she lifted young William up into a carriage and beckoned to them to join her.

‘There’s space here, Ma,’ said James firmly. ‘I think we should take it in case there’s no more room down there.’

One glance at the crowded platform and the banging doors of carriages told her he was probably right.

‘Up you go, then,’ she said, ‘We’ll stay and listen to the band this evening when we come back. I just don’t know where all the people have come from.’

The carriage was still cool and she breathed a sigh of relief as she sat down and settled Sarah beside her. There was one window seat left and it was agreed Sam and James could take it in turns to look out until they left the station, then Sarah and Hannah could take turns as they went through new countryside.