The Woman from Kerry (26 page)

‘A lovely day, isn’t it,’ said a gentleman sitting opposite, with his wife and three little girls.

Rose smiled, wondered if he might be a Methodist superintendent. She exchanged a few remarks with his wife, a pleasant woman whom she suspected was feeling the effects of firm corsetry, her dress very fashionable, but rather too heavy for comfort as the day was turning out.

The other occupants of the carriage were two young girls who whispered together and looked as if they might be in service and two young men, very well spruced up, but too shy and awkward even to exchange pleasantries.

Rose was pleased with Sam and James. They reported on everything they saw, but they did it quietly and without undue excitement. The only time they both pushed their heads together out of the carriage door, tramping on the feet of one of the
young men as they did so, was when Mary Wylie’s young brother, now a station porter, came past locking the doors.

‘What are ye doin’ that for?’ asked James.

‘To keep ye from fallin’ out.’

‘No need, Davey,’ said Rose sharply, ‘I’ll see they don’t fall out.’

‘Right ye be,’ he said agreeably, as he moved on.

‘Are ye comin’ with us?’ asked James, leaning out as he locked the adjoining carriage.

‘No, I’m on the next train. Passenger. The 10.35 to Newry,’ he said as he passed on.

‘We’ll be going in a minute now,’ said Sam, taking his turn at the window, ‘the Guard has just blown his whistle. I can see him waving his flag.’

Seconds later, there was a minute movement in the carriage, followed by a distinct lurch, a long whistle and a passing cloud of steam and smoke.

‘We’re away,’ said Sam, his face wreathed in smiles.

‘Yes,’ said Rose, sitting back, glad they were underway at last, after all the waiting and the delays.

They rolled out of the station between high banks, the sides of the cutting steep and smooth, the light glinting in long, undisturbed grass with nodding heads. Briar bushes grew in tangles, pink with opening buds. Hannah changed seats with Sam and looked up at the blue sky high above them, surprised and delighted when the cutting became an
embankment, and her view was now over meadows and hayfields.

‘My turn now,’ said Sarah.

Smiling agreeably, the woman beside Rose said what good children they were and how well they shared the window seat.

‘Susie, you change with Helen, then Mary can have a turn,’ she said to her own children, while her husband smiled benevolently and consulted his fob watch.

‘Fifteen minutes late,’ he said. ‘Good thing we’re not going to work, we’d be in trouble,’ he added, looking at the four young people.

One of the girls managed a smile.

‘You’d have a stoppage for that, sir, where I work,’ said the older of the two young men.

‘Were slowing down,’ said the gentleman. ‘I hope we haven’t got a cow on the line.’

James thrust his head through the window.

‘My turn,’ said Sam, urgently a few moments later.

At the moment he spoke, the train stopped.

‘I think they’ll have to bank her, she can’t get up the slope,’ said James, turning to Rose.

‘So we’ll have to wait for another engine to come and give us a push?’ asked Hannah.

‘They’ll not make it otherwise,’ he replied, soberly.

While the train was moving there had been a
comfortably breeze through both open windows. Now the air was still and getting hotter every moment. The amiable lady was perspiring visibly and Sarah was beginning to get cross as the sun beat down on the thin roof of the carriage.

‘James, see what’s happening,’ said Rose, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable herself.

‘They’re going to divide the train,’ said James, suddenly. ‘They’ve uncoupled the first five coaches to take them up the gradient first. Then they’ll come back for us.’

‘Let me look,’ said Sam, urgently. ‘Let me look.’

James gave way reluctantly under Rose’s glance.

‘A man’s put stones under the wheels of this carriage,’ said Sam, abruptly. ‘The other man says he’s mad to take the vacuum off. What’s that mean?’

By way of answer, James stuck his head out of the window again. As he did so, the carriage received a bang loud enough to startle everyone. It began to move imperceptibly backwards. He spun round, his face taut with urgency.

‘Ma, the stones have crumbled, we’ve got to jump out?’

‘Why James?’ Rose asked, alarmed by the tone of his voice.

‘There’s no brakes on us now the vacuum’s off, and the 10.35 is coming up behind us. We’ll run straight back into her.’

Rose stood up immediately.

‘Open the door James and jump out. I’ll drop Sarah down next,’ she said without any hesitation.

The movement in the carriage was very small. The young girls looked at her in surprise as she lowered Sarah into James’s waiting arms.

‘You next, Sam, and catch Hannah.’

Rose was about to jump down after her when she realised no one else in the carriage had moved.

‘Please,
please
, follow me immediately,’ she said, looking at the gentleman and then at the young people. ‘Something dreadful is going to happen, I can’t start to explain, but I know James is right,’ she said as the carriage wavered more significantly. ‘I must go to my children,’ she said, with a final backwards glance.

She paused at the door to get her balance and jumped down, almost falling forward, but managing to steady herself. She ran back the dozen or so yards to where the children were standing waiting, Sarah with tears running down her face.

‘I’m all right, Sarah, but I’ve got to go and see Auntie Mary. James, take them well off the line, out of the sun. Wait for me.’

She picked up her skirts and ran as hard as she could to catch up with the runaway carriages, trying to work out how far away Mary’s had been. She was gasping for breath as the coaches picked up speed and she tripped several times on the rough stone as
she tried to navigate the narrow space between the rails and the edge of the embankment.

Heads were now poking out of windows, arms trying to open locked doors. The carriages were gaining speed, minute by minute, running quickly down the gradient that had defeated the engine on the way up.

‘Mary, Mary, she called, as she drew level with a coach that might be the one. A man was struggling with the door. Mary’s face appeared beside him at the window white with fear.

‘It’s locked, Rose. It’s locked,’ she shouted, shaking her head in despair.

‘Try the other side,’ she yelled. ‘Jump out, Mary,’ she cried, with one last effort to keep pace with the carriage. ‘For God’s sake, jump.’

She straightened up, a violent stitch in her side, as the last carriage of the divided train rattled past at speed. She took a deep breath, crossed the line and looked down the embankment, hoping against hope to see a figure, standing, sitting or even lying on the grass. But there was no one there.

The screams of the trapped people sounded in her ears. And then a yet more ominous sound, the long, long whistle of the oncoming passenger train. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing and waited for what had to come. The smash of metal on wood, the cries of people whose bodies would shatter like the wood of the carriages.

The pain in her chest was so bad she couldn’t breathe. She tried to move and couldn’t. Finally, she let herself slump to the ground and buried her face in the warm grass. She gasped, panting madly, found she could breath again. Then she staggered to her feet, shaking violently and crossed the railway line.

‘The children are waiting, Rose,’ she said aloud. ‘Don’t look back. Just don’t look back.’

The children were sitting under a hawthorn hedge at the bottom of the embankment. James had his arm round Sarah who was still crying. Hannah was making a daisy chain. Sam was watching out for her and waved the moment he saw her come over its edge. As she began the steep descent, she saw Hannah offer the daisy chain to Sarah, but Sarah shook her head and went on crying.

‘There’s Ma, now. I told you she wouldn’t be long,’ said James, as she came up to them, immediately dropping to her knees and putting her arms round Sarah, who wrapped her arms round her neck and wept even more loudly. Above her dark curls, she ran her eyes over the other children.

‘Did you find her, Ma?’ asked James.

‘Yes, I did,’ she said calmly.

James dropped his eyes and asked no further question.

‘Are all the people killed now?’ Sarah burst out, lifting her tear-stained face from her shoulder.

‘A lot of people will be hurt, Sarah. Some will be killed. But we don’t know yet how many.’

She looked closely at Sam and Hannah. She’d seen already that James was very steady. At twelve, he was grown up for his age and she knew he’d worked out exactly what was going to happen when the passenger train ploughed into the runaway carriages. Sam was unusually silent, his face pale, his dark hair catching the sunlight. Hannah stood looking at her, the daisy chain was crumpled in her hand, her eyes dry, but unnaturally large, without their usual sparkle.

‘What we must do, Sarah, is go home. And on the way, we must go and tell Da we’re all right. He’ll be so worried about us. It’s a long way, across to our own road, so you’ll have to be a very brave girl.’

‘Can we not go and help?’ said James roughly, nodding his head in the direction of the runaway carriages.

‘Yes, you and I could,’ she said, looking him straight in the eye. ‘But I don’t think we should.’

She saw his lips tighten as he grasped her meaning.

‘What’s the best way to get to Killuney, James?’

‘Over the fields, you mean?’

She nodded. They would have to cross the embankment. The wreckage might well be visible and even worse, they might still hear the cries of the injured, but it would have to be faced.

‘Go ahead, James, see can you spy out the best way across the fields towards the bridge. If we can reach it, it’s an easy walk up the lane over Drummond and down on to our own road.’

‘You mean the lane that comes down by the wee chapel beyond the mill?’

‘That’s right, we’ve walked it the odd Sunday, but we’ve never gone as far as the bridge.’

‘I’ll go with James, Ma,’ said Sam suddenly. ‘I always see the wet bits long before he does.’

‘Don’t get too far ahead,’ she warned, as she wiped Sarah’s eyes and stood up. ‘Can you manage that bag, Sam, or will I carry it?’

‘I can manage.’

‘What about you, Hannah?’

‘I’m all right,’ she said, straightening up.

The tramp across damp meadows was slow and wearying, especially when they had to find gaps in the hedgerows large enough for them to climb through. Sarah had never been a good walker, she tired quickly and, although she didn’t ask to be carried, Rose knew she was soon exhausted. They had to stop more than once to let her rest.

Although the distance to the bridge was not more than two miles, to avoid a full view of the disaster area, James’s chosen route took them nearly an hour. With wide, boggy patches to thread their way through between the sloping fields, their progress at
times was painfully slow. The final steep pull up to the lane running over Drummond Hill in the full glare of the hot sun left Rose breathless and nearly as exhausted as Sarah and Hannah.

But she didn’t stop, urging them to press on, for even at this distance she could hear sounds that filled her with dread. As the lane sloped downwards under the shade of trees and became the familiar place of Sunday walks, she began to feel her courage return. Once they were back on the Loughgall Road, it was less than two miles home and there were shady places where they could stop and rest. She might even make them eat a bite from the picnic Hannah and Sam still carried.

As they neared the foot of the lane, they stopped to rest once more and she called James to her.

‘It’s not far now to the mill, James. Go and ask for the foreman. Tell him what’s happened,’ she said, speaking very quietly. ‘Say you’d like to speak to your father to tell him we’re safe. You’ll probably catch up with us long before we’re home. I’ll have to carry Sarah soon.’

‘Right, Ma. I’ll not be long.’

She watched him run down the lane and disappear round the corner of the small chapel that marked the end of the Asylum grounds. Once he was out of sight, she moved them on, Sarah hanging on her hand, Hannah silent with fatigue. Only Sam plodded forward steadily just a few yards ahead of
them. His role as scout was over, but he always took the lead when James wasn’t with them.

They were resting again under the trees near the gates of Drumsollen when he caught them up.

‘Did you see Da?’ she asked, before he had caught his breath.

He shook his head.

‘Da’s gone to Killuney, him an’ three men with tools and the big dray. They sent down from the station for transport an’ the foreman asked for four volunteers. The looms was in, so he was free to go. He’s away half an hour ago.’

‘So he doesn’t know we’re safe,’ she said, her heart sinking at the thought of what lay before him.

‘I’ll carry Sarah for a bit,’ he said, looking her full in the face.

‘Just for a bit, James,’ she said, trying to keep the distress out of her voice. ‘We can stop at the pump for a drink of water.’

In all the hundreds of times she had walked from the gates of Drumsollen to the pump opposite the old limestone quarry, a distance little more than half a mile, it had never seemed so long. Just putting one foot in front of another required all her thought and effort. She tried to focus on the gush of water that would quench their thirst and cool their hands and faces.

She was annoyed with herself for having brought nothing to drink, but they’d planned to buy
lemonade when they got to Warrenpoint. Bottles were heavy and difficult to carry and always leaked, no matter how hard you tried to cork them up.

Suddenly she thought of the trainload of passengers they’d left behind. So many in such need and no water. No shelter from the hot sun.

She stopped herself, knowing if she let herself think, she’d not get the children home.

James was so vigorous with the pump he splashed them all, but no one laughed. They all drank deep, hands held out to cool in the very cold water. Rose wiped Sarah’s face with her handkerchief where she was already reddened by the sun. They would have to walk under the hedgerow for what shelter they could get on the last open stretch to their own lane.

They were just about to set off when they heard a vehicle approach from the direction of home. They stayed where they were in the shade to see who it might be.

‘It’s George Robinson with Thomas and two of the boys. I think it’s young George and Sammy,’ said Sam, stepping out into the road to wave at them.

The trap was coming at speed, but it slowed down as soon as it saw them and came slowly to rest beside them. Thomas leapt down and put his arms out, trying to embrace them all.

‘Thank God, Rose. Thank God yer safe. Are ye hurted at all?’

Totally overcome by the tears streaming down
Thomas’s face, she could only shake her head.

‘How did ye hear?’

‘They sent for help to Castledillon, an’ one of the grooms rode over to me in case they needed tools. He’s away up to the cart manufactory. They’ve asked for vehicles fit to bring people to the hospital. Can ye’s make it home, d’ye think?’ he asked, eyeing them doubtfully.

She nodded vigorously.

‘You go on, Thomas, we can manage. John’s away with the dray from the mill. Tell him we’re safe. Please tell him if you possibly can,’ she said, quickly, afraid her tears would let her down.

‘I’ll tell him all right,’ he said, as he sprang up into the cart again.

As he sat down beside George and his sons, she saw that the two young men, broad shouldered and newly married, were looking as pale and vulnerable as her own Sam.

She managed to wave to them, as George shook the reins, but she could think of no words to wish them well on the journey they had in front of them.

‘I’ll take her now,’ she said, sometime later, as they came up the hill and caught sight of the forge, a thin trickle of smoke still rising in a leisurely way up into a perfect blue sky.

As she took Sarah from his arms she could see that even James was now exhausted. She led her little party up the lane, picking her way between a
hay float and the reaping machine on which Thomas had been working when the call came.

She waited for Sam to open the door and they went in to the empty kitchen. It was warm and stuffy.

‘Prop open the back door, Sam, will you,’ she said, as she put Sarah down and opened the front windows as far as they would go.

‘We’ll have our lunch now,’ she said firmly. ‘Would anyone like a cup of tea with some sugar in it?’ she asked quietly.

All she got was nods as she bent to stir up the fire and put the kettle on its chain. She glanced at the clock on the dresser. It said ten to twelve. Not yet noon and already it felt like the longest day in her whole life.

As soon as they’d eaten, she put Sarah to bed. To her surprise, Hannah went too, without being asked, and she was followed shortly afterwards by Sam and James. She sat herself down in Granny Sarah’s rocking chair and stared at the table, where the scattered remains of their picnic still waited to be cleared up. It was only when the creak of the bedroom door startled her that she realised she’d been asleep.

‘Can I bring you a glass of the spring?’ said James, as he crossed the floor in his bare feet. ‘I’m so thirsty.’

‘Yes, please,’ she said, yawning and stretching,
her mind still caught in a pleasant dream.

Before James put the glass in her hand, the pleasure had evaporated and enormity of what had happened flowed in upon her like a dark cloud. With it came the knowledge of what she had to do.

‘James, I’ll have to go down to Wylie’s. Can you look after the girls? Sarah might sleep till I get back. I’ll not be long.’

She’d have liked to change her clothes but she was afraid of waking Sarah, so she set out for Annacramp still dressed in her Sunday best, though her well-polished boots were now streaked with dried mud and the hem of her skirt stained with grass.

What could she say? To Peggy, of all people, who had lost so much. Could she have done more? Could she have gone back and searched for Mary and the children leaving hers in the care of James? Could he have got them home by himself? Or would Sarah have screamed uncontrollably, once she was not there to reassure her?

Rose argued the case back and forth as she tramped the familiar road, empty and quiet in the early afternoon. Could she have helped? Comforted a distraught child, a dying mother?

‘
Don’t look back, Rose. Don’t look back
.’

The words had come to her as she stood on the embankment, the carriages running away from her. They echoed in her mind from long ago. She could
hear the voice, kind, but firm. She knew she’d done as she’d been told, but where the voice came from or when it had spoken would not come back to her.

She turned into the yard of Wylie’s farm and made for the dwelling house that sat back behind the stable and byres. The back door stood open as it always did. She was about to knock when she heard a movement, a slight rustle of a skirt. Peggy Wylie stood in front of her, her face red and swollen with crying, her arms outstretched.

‘Rose, Rose,’ she cried, tears pouring down unheeded. ‘I thought I’d lost everyone now, but you’re still alive. Are the children all right?’

They wept in each other arms, tears of sorrow, tears of relief inextricably mixed.

‘How did you know what had happened, Peggy?’ Rose said at last, as they grew steadier.

‘Sam Loney at Richhill station heard from the guard on the 11.15 down train from Armagh,’ she began, doing her best to not to cry. ‘He said a man had just run back down the other line and asked John Foster to telegraph for help to all the railway stations. Then Sam came over for Billy and they’re away to help with two of the Gibsons. What happened Rose? Whatever happened?’

Rose told her all she knew, though nothing to raise her hopes about Mary or the others. She was in one of the carriages nearest to the guard’s van at the back of the train, she said. The doors were
locked and the runaway coaches were gaining speed all the time.

‘Poor, poor Billy,’ Peggy said, ‘He’s such a good sort, but he hasn’t much go about him. Sure, look at the way he went to bits when wee Jane died. What’ll he do if he loses her? An’ the wee ones too? Ach, Rose, I don’t understand about God at all. First Kevin and now this. How can He let such things happen?’

Rose shook her head.

‘My mother used to say that God wasn’t for doing things for you, He was for helping you bear what comes. I didn’t understand her then and I’m not sure I understand yet,’ she said sadly. ‘I prayed for a miracle on that embankment but the Lord certainly didn’t put out his hand and stop those carriages.’

They were silent for a long moment, then she roused herself.

‘Peggy, I’d like to stay with you, but I’ve left Sarah asleep and James can’t manage her if she starts to cry again. She feels things more than’s good for her, that child.’

‘Thank God you’re all safe. I’ll have news by tonight. Davey’ll be back from work around seven and he’ll know, one way or the other. He was on duty at the station all day.’

She said her goodbye. She simply hadn’t the courage to tell Peggy that Davey’s duty had been changed, that it was Davey who had been sent to
lock the carriages and Davey who was to follow on the passenger train behind.

By the time she arrived back home, Hannah was peeling potatoes and James and Sam had gone to fetch more water. Careful not to wake Sarah, they’d cleared the table, washed the cups and left the room straight. Though the hours passed slowly, no one had the heart to say a word.