Under the July Sun (39 page)

‘Thanks, Pet,' Cat said, ‘but ye've no need to stay in, the poor little soul has gone and there's nothin' we can do here for her. God in heaven, my poor sister, this'll kill her. Her only child.'

When the letter explaining what happened arrived a week later, Ellie described how Catherine had run out into the road to buy ice-cream and was hit by a truck. She died in Michael's arms soon after. Ellie left Cat in no doubt now that she was saving every penny to travel back to England, she hated America. She said she didn't care how long it took but they were determined to return.

Stunned by the horror of how Catherine had died, Cat found it hard to write to Ellie. When she did, she felt she had made a poor job of it.

Whilst walking to work that day, Cat questioned herself. What can I say to my poor sister after losin' her child? I can't make the words understandin' enough to help her pain and every word I have written is inadequate.

She just hoped Michael stayed away from the drink long enough to keep a job and save money for their fare back.

Breda sewed the last button on a jacket she had made for a customer, snipped off the thread and stood to hang it on a hook behind the door. She went across to the window and looked out at the layer of snow settling on Main Street. It looks so serene like this, she thought. Pity it doesn't last.

Nobody was out and all curtains were drawn against the cold, except hers. She stood breathing against the window, her breath misting the glass, then condensing in little droplets which ran downwards onto the woodwork.

She sighed. Another year! Another round of making suits, coats, skirts, trousers and anything else she was asked to do. Another year older with no hope of breaking the trend.

She picked up the poker and prodded the peat burning in the grate. As it burst into flame, she was aware of feeling heavy-hearted. If the truth were known, she thought, I am worried that in another ten years if I don't do something about it, I could be here still staring out of this window on a cold January night, not having done anything different in all that time.

In the reflection of the window Breda studied her silhouette and saw nothing but a huge heap of a woman and she felt she could scream. Wake everyone up. Shock them out of their slow little lives.

‘Oh God,' she murmured, ‘please make some change in life for me. I don't want to die before I have lived.'

She drew the curtains over, blocking out her image and the whiteness outside, and sat thinking about her life, aimlessly prodding the fire. She heard Peggy upstairs moving about, then her footsteps on the stairs, so got up and opened the door to the hallway.

‘Are ye all right, Peggy?'

‘Sure. I just need to get some more water.' Peggy sniffled into her handkerchief.

‘G'w'on back to bed now. I'll get ye some. Shall I boil it up and put some lemon in it for ye?'

‘No, don't go to any bother now. I'll just get some water and try to get off to sleep.' She continued into the scullery, poured some water from a jug and then turned to go back to bed. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she called to Breda who had gone back into her sewing room.

‘Goodnight Breda, are ye comin' to bed soon?'

‘Yes, I s'pose so, though I'm not tired. I'll maybe have a read for a while, and then I'll be up.'

Just then they both heard Marie groaning in the room above. Peggy looked at Breda saying, ‘Is that Marie I hear callin' out?'

‘'Tis.' Breda said. ‘I'll go up and see what she wants.'

‘No, ye sit and read yer book Breda, I'm goin' up anyway, so I'll look in on her. Goodnight.'

‘Right then, up ye go or ye'll be getting' cold and ye don't need to feel any worse than ye already do.'

Peggy climbed the stairs and turned to go into Marie's room when she heard her cry out. She opened the door and found Marie curled up on her bed clutching her stomach.

‘What's the matter, Pet?' Peggy asked.

‘Oh Auntie, I've got a terrible pain in me tummy.'

‘'Tis probably all those dried figs ye ate. I said they'd upset ye didn't I?' she smiled, ‘c'mon now, settle down and if ye need to go to the toilet, put yer coat on, 'tis like the Arctic out there, snow everywhere. 'Twill freeze the hide off ye.'

Marie nodded and slid under the covers. Peggy kissed her on the forehead and went to her own bedroom where she got into bed and drank her water, coughing and sneezing. Feeling quite cold and dreadful she decided to put a cardigan on. She climbed out of bed, opened a drawer, and put her thickest one on. Warmer now, she got back into bed, blew out her candle and was soon asleep.

Peggy didn't know what had woken her but she sat bolt upright in the middle of the night. Something had disturbed her sleep, but when she couldn't hear anything, decided she must have been dreaming. In the gloom she could see Breda in the next bed.

Then she heard it again. Something
had
woken her! It sounded like a muffled scream. She thought maybe it was the Banshee and sat shivering in the bed. Then there was a louder scream and she realised it could only be Marie. She leapt out of bed and rushed into Marie's room. By the light of the moon she saw her niece gasping for breath, holding her stomach, unable to speak for the pain she was in.

‘Dear God, whatever's the matter?' Peggy asked, lighting a candle. Alarmed at Marie's obvious pain and not knowing what to do, she hurried to rouse Breda.

‘Breda, wake up, Marie's ill.'

‘What's up with her?'

‘I don't know. She has an awful pain. Will ye go and fetch Daniel?'

‘Is it really that bad?'

‘Sure it is, she's in agony.'

‘I'll see for meself before I go getting' Daniel out of bed!'

Breda went into Marie's room and it didn't take her more than a heartbeat to decide she should go for the doctor. She pulled on her clothes and hurried downstairs.

‘I'll take Marie's bicycle, t'will be quicker,' she said to Peggy. ‘Maybe 'tis her appendix. Oh Lord, I hope it isn't. The hospital is miles away.'

She opened the door to the back yard, brushed the snow off the saddle and dragged the bike through the gate to the side alley where she mounted it and drove off into the dark.

As Breda entered the driveway of Daniel's house the snow made an eerie scene, with the trees pointing their empty branches skyward.

Dismounting, she tried to catch her breath as she surveyed the windows, looking for signs of life, but the house was in darkness. She banged on the door relentlessly until she saw a light appear upstairs.

He must have that new fangled electricity, Breda thought, because she saw one light after another spring to life until Daniel opened the door.

‘Hello Breda,' he said. ‘C'mon in. What's the matter?' he asked, though with the sight of Breda covered in snowflakes and looking rather dishevelled in the middle of the night he knew it must be serious.

‘Daniel. 'Tis Marie. She ate a load of figs yesterday and now she's writhin' about in pain.'

‘Silly girl,' he smiled, ‘they can have that effect if ye eat them in abundance.'

‘Well I wouldn't bother ye if 'twas just figs, but she's in awful pain and we're worried it may be her appendix.'

‘G'w'on into the lounge Breda while l get dressed.'

‘No, 'tis fine if ye just come on after me, I have the bicycle.'

‘Not at all,' he laughed, ‘leave the bicycle here and I'll give ye a ride in my new motor car. It will be faster.'

‘Oh. I don't know, Daniel, I've never been in a motor car.'

‘Then tonight will change your life. Your first drive,' he said closing the door. ‘Sit yerself in there,' he yawned pointing to the lounge, ‘'tis warmer, and I'll be down straight away.'

Breda walked toward the lounge and stood inside the doorway. She looked at the light switch placed in the wall and feeling a little afraid of the gadget, pushed it downwards with her finger.

Suddenly the room came alive. Shocked, she flicked the switch back up and the light faded. She chuckled to herself. Electric light. It wasn't so bad and very effective compared to candlelight.

She flicked it on again and walked into the room. It was all as it had been when her sister Mary was alive. So sad, she thought. Daniel had never stepped out with anyone else and was living the life of a bachelor, except that he had a housekeeper who went in daily. He was clean of any gossip and she was glad of that. Fethard was such a small place; folk couldn't afford to be the object of speculation.

Daniel broke her train of thought as he appeared downstairs.

‘I'm ready, Breda. Turn off the light and we'll go. Ye can pick up the bicycle any time, t'will be fine in the porch.'

He opened the front door and raised the collar of his overcoat. ‘Phew, 'tis awful cold. Hope the car starts well,' he said, gingerly stepping towards it. He fished the starting handle out from the back seat and fitted it into place at the front of the car. After a couple of turns it burst into life and Breda climbed in just before Daniel deftly turned the car around and drove out of the gates.

He parked the car outside the shop and Peggy was waiting with the door ajar.
‘She's upstairs, Daniel,' Peggy whispered closing the door behind them. ‘She's been kickin' up an awful din. I think it may be appendicitis, but then ye're the doctor, so I'll leave it up to ye now. I'll put the kettle on, and maybe ye'd like a hot toddy before ye leave.'

Daniel smiled and made his way upstairs. Peggy and Breda stood at the bottom of the staircase and heard him knock on Marie's door, open it and disappear inside. After the door shut they hurried into the scullery to make hot toddies.

‘Peggy,' Breda whispered, ‘Daniel has electric lights installed.'

‘Never!'

‘Sure he has. And I tried it!'

‘Ye did not. Did ye?'

‘Yes, he has a little switch thing on the wall and ye just flick it up and whoosh! 'Tis like magic. The whole room lights up in one go.'

‘Jesus, Mary and Holy St. Joseph, I'd be too scared to try it.'

‘Ah 'tis easy when ye know how,' Breda smiled, ‘and I didn't feel any tinglin' or anythin'. Maybe we should think about gettin' some electric lights too.'

‘Oh I don't know 'tis a bit worryin', the thought of it.'

‘Ah Peggy, ye need to move with the times. Electric light is here to stay.'

Breda couldn't help smiling. She had asked God to change her life and already tonight she had taken her first ride in a motorcar and used an electric light. She thought her prayers had been answered pretty quickly for once.

The kettle had been boiled, cooled off and re-boiled many times and still Daniel had not come downstairs. Peggy and Breda had re-kindled the fire in Breda's room and sat before it trying to keep warm. Peggy's cold was making her feel dreadful so Breda suggested she went back to bed.

‘I will not. How could ye suggest it? I'm not leavin' ye to cope on yer own.'

‘Think of yerself, Peggy, I will cope if I know ye're feelin' better tomorrow.'

‘No. I'm kinda worried to be honest Breda. Daniel's been up there so long. D'ya think he's fallen asleep?'

Breda laughed. ‘The very idea!'

Then they heard Marie's door open and close and Daniel softly descend the staircase. He was greeted by the two sisters looking up towards him, with faith in their hearts that he was the best person to rely on in a crisis.

But there was something amiss. Daniel wasn't smiling. His face was ashen and he wasn't delivering the verdict that it was the figs causing the problem.

‘C'mon in and sit down both of ye,' he said softly, not waiting to be invited. He went into Breda's room and waved the sisters into chairs to join him.

‘What I have to tell ye is one of the hardest things I've ever had to say.'

Breda and Peggy looked at him bewildered, but remained silent. Daniel looked down. Then he spoke in a quiet voice.

‘I think maybe we'll need that whiskey now if ye don't mind.'

‘Why of course,' Peggy said standing up, thinking that he was just tired and needed a drink to pick him up. ‘I'll just be a moment,' she said and disappeared into the scullery to collect the bottle and three glasses.

‘'Tis bad news isn't it?' Breda probed.

‘We'll wait for Peggy if ye don't mind, Breda,' he said and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, just as the door opened and Peggy came in with a tray holding whiskey and glasses.

She poured the drinks, offering Daniel one first. He drank it in one go and held his glass up for a re-fill before Peggy and Breda had even taken hold of theirs. Surprised, Peggy replenished his glass and then sat down ready to toast him, but Daniel didn't look in the mood for frivolities.

He took a deep breath and faced the two sisters who had no idea what he was about to tell them.

‘What I have to tell ye both is not somethin' ye're ready for.' He heard their intake of breath; saw their apprehension and their trusting eyes focussed on his.

‘Marie did not survive the delivery, and neither did her baby.'

Speechless, Peggy and Breda stared at Daniel and did not react. Eventually Breda spoke.

‘What in the world are ye talkin' about? Wasn't it figs?'

‘No, Breda. 'Twas not the figs. Marie was in labour.'

‘Labour? But…' Peggy could not grasp it and the sentence died on her tongue.

Minutes passed. Nobody spoke. After some time, Daniel stood and re-filled his glass, then sat down again. Peggy and Breda had not touched their drinks.

‘Ye need to drink the whiskey, 'twill help,' he said glancing at Peggy who looked in a worse state than Breda. ‘Peggy, ye need somethin' for the shock. Drink yer drink while we decide what to do.'