The House Children

by Heidi Daniele

  She greeted me with a big hug and asked, “Peg, where’s yer friend?”

  “She turned fifteen, and the nuns sent her on to her situation. She’s working fer some family.”

  Mrs. Hanley brought her hands up to her face and gasped, “Peg, yer only seven years old! The nuns let ya travel all alone?”

  She held my hand and carried my bag as we walked through town and I felt good to be back in Galway. I thought about Blackie and Brownie when we passed Eyre Square and told Mrs. Hanley about them.

  “Peg, do you mean the Burns twins? They’re in Saint Thomas’ with you?”

  “They’re in my class. They said their mam is sick, but when she’s better, they’ll be sent back ta her.”

  Mrs. Hanley closed her eyes and shook her head.

  “Oh, Peg, their mam passed away two days ago. They’re burying her this morning.”

  It looked like my holiday was going to be much like last year. Mrs. Hanley had the table set for tea and two new dresses for me to wear. She prepared a delicious supper and I helped her set the table. When Mr. Hanley came home, he ribbed me about the nuns again, and I laughed extra hard. At bedtime, when Mrs. Hanley lay down next to me, an intense feeling of comfort overwhelmed me, and I don’t know why, but tears started welling up in my eyes.

  Mrs. Hanley seemed pleased the following morning while I watched her make bread. There was something about her hands that captivated me. She gently kneaded the dough with rhythm, moving her hands as if they were dancing, until the dough was smooth.

  “I think yer bread tastes so good because ya make it with love.”

  “Why Peg that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  I wanted to be useful and offered to polish the floor moldings, but Mrs. Hanley let out a little giggle and said that wasn’t necessary.

  When her daily chores were done, she’d take me to town or to the park, and one day we stopped in Saint Nicholas’ Church to light a candle for Mrs. Burns.

  Even though I didn’t know her, I felt sad she died, and Mrs. Hanley tried to comfort me.

  “Mrs. Burns needs to rest peacefully in heaven. Peg, she was very ill and suffering. This is best for her.”

  “But what about Blackie and Brownie?”

  “The nuns’ll take good care of em.”

  Granny came to visit on Wednesday and brought a chicken for us.

  “We’ve got ta fatten up Peg!” she said.

  While we drank tea, she asked me about my lessons in school.

  “I’m doing well, Granny. I’m good with my sums, and one of the best at readin.”

  I’d noticed Mrs. Hanley wasn’t as tense in Granny’s presence this time.

  We met Delia and her daughters for a trip to the beach, and it was more fun than last year. This time, Mrs. Hanley came into the water and splashed around with us. She didn’t mind when we splashed her back, and she looked lovely when she threw her head back and laughed. During the ride home, Regan and Evelyn fell asleep, and I closed my eyes while listening to Mrs. Hanley and Delia whisper in the seat behind us.

  “It’s grand that ya have her here, even if it’s just fer the week.”

  “Tis. It took some finagling, though. I told Dan that Mother Superior asked me ta take her.”

  “And Dan knows who she is?”

  I couldn’t hear Mrs. Hanley’s response and didn’t know what to make of their conversation.

  The following day, Mrs. Hanley took me to a shoppe and asked if I’d prefer clips or a ribbon for my hair.

  “I don’t know. Whatever ya think is best’ll be fine.”

  “Well, ya must have a preference.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, unfamiliar with being given a choice. I didn’t want to give the wrong answer.

  “Well, what’s yer favorite color?”

  Again, I shrugged my shoulders. I’d never thought about preferring one color over another.

  Mrs. Hanley was disturbed by my reluctance to make a decision.

  “Peg, ya’ve gotta know what ya like. Sure, ya must have a preference.”

  “I’ll take a yellow ribbon,” I said, hoping that would please her.

  After working at the market on Saturday, Granny stopped in for tea. I sat at the table chatting with her, and she admired my new hair ribbon. Before leaving, she put another sixpence in my palm and told me to do well at school. I liked her, not because of the money, but because even though she had lots of questions, none of them were about where I lived. After she left, we went to the park, and Mrs. Hanley took a seat on the bench and I played with the children. While I ran around a boy pulled the ribbon from my hair and ran off with it.

  “Go on and get it back,” said one of the girls.

  I didn’t know what to do, fearing both the aggressive boy and the possibility that Mrs. Hanley might be mad at me for letting him take it. I looked over at her and she was busy talking to another woman, so I threw myself to the ground, causing my knees and dress to get dirty. She spotted me as I got up and came rushing over. I forced some tears and told her I collided with a boy and fell down, and somehow lost the ribbon. To my surprise, the incident didn’t make her angry at all; instead, she was extra nice to me.

  I didn’t want to go to sleep that night, since Sunday morning meant my holiday was over. I lay in bed, feeling the warmth of Mrs. Hanley’s body beside me and inhaling her scent. She thought I had fallen asleep and left the room, but I just lay there and cried and cried until I had no more tears.

  In the morning I put on my gray farm clothes, but Mrs. Hanley insisted I change into one of the dresses.

  “I want ya ta look nice fer church this morning.”

  “But the nuns will take it away.”

  “It’s okay, Peg, I want ya ta wear it.”

  I changed into the dress and we went to mass. It was hard for me to pray after communion because I was mad at God and couldn’t understand why he didn’t let me stay here. We returned to the house after mass for breakfast, and while we ate, Mr. Hanley told me to tell the nuns he was asking for them. Mrs. Hanley was upset with him for saying that and told me he was joking, but he winked at me and handed me a banana.

  “A little somethin in case ya get hungry on the train.”

  I felt sad as we walked to the station, and I think Mrs. Hanley felt the same, because we didn’t talk. While we waited for the train, she asked an old woman, who was traveling to Dublin, to keep an eye on me. We said goodbye and the old woman followed me onto the train and sat down beside me. I waved to Mrs. Hanley as the train pulled out of the station. The old woman asked me why I was in Galway and I told her the Hanleys were my relations whom I visited every summer.

  I got off the train in Ballinasloe and slowly walked back to the industrial school alone. I put my medal back in my cubby and went up to the dorm to change into my farm clothes.

  On my way out to the yard, I ran into Brownie coming out of the bathroom. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and I could see she had been crying.

  “This mornin Sister Constance told us that we wouldn’t be goin home cause our mam died, and Blackie says she’s lyin, but I think it’s true.”

  “It’s a terrible thing if your mam did die,” I said, “but at least ya got ta know her and ya have good memories of her.”

  I didn’t tell her that I knew it was true.

  Out in the yard, I was surprised to see a new set of iron steps leading up to our dorms. My friends were excited to tell me about them.

  “It’s a fire escape, they put it in while you were gone.”

  “Must have somethin ta do with the inspection we had.”

  “And the fire in Cavan.”

  “We’re havin a practice drill every Sunday morning.”

  Things at the industrial school shook up a bit at the end of August. Most of the nuns had left for a retreat at their convent in Spiddal. I’d seen five black cars pick them up when I came back from confession at Saint Michael’s. Katie and Julia were left in charge, and that resulted in chaos. After
a few days like that, I welcomed back our routine and the start of the school year.

  Sister Madeline, our Third Class teacher, stood at the door waiting for us as we approached her. She was a short, hefty woman, with dark eyes and thick black eyebrows, and her voice sounded husky, like a man’s. We’d been warned by the older girls that she was tough.

  “House children to the back of the room,” she said as we entered the classroom.

  She slammed the door closed behind us, and Mary and I took seats at a desk in the last row. Sister Madeline took attendance, and then announced that physical education had been added to the curriculum this year. She also told us that it was a mandate from the Education Department that she disagreed with.

  She distributed wooden dowels to us from a barrel by the door, and then took us out to the school yard. She put us in four rows and stood before our class, wrapped her sausage-like fingers around a dowel, and raised it over her head. It was difficult to keep from laughing as we followed her movements.

  A small group of priests, escorted by the Reverend Mother, appeared at the back door of the school and stood there watching us. When Sister Madeline noticed their presence, she told us to continue the routine, but she put her dowel down. Brownie was next to me and fell to the ground, it looked like she was having a seizure again. I didn’t know what to do, but Blackie came right over and put the spoon in her mouth, and suddenly Sister Constance was at her side, too. She ordered two girls to carry Brownie back to the industrial school.

  “Father Doyle doesn’t need to see this! Get her out of here!”

  When we returned to the classroom, Sister Madeline didn’t say anything about Brownie—she just started writing arithmetic problems on the chalkboard. A girl in front of me asked me what had happened, and as I leaned forward to tell her, Sister Madeline turned around and saw me talking.

  “Up front, now!”

  I looked at the floor, and I knew that everyone was looking at me as I went to the front of the class. Sister Madeline grabbed me by the ear and pulled me forward, and my face reddened with embarrassment. My nose was inches away from the multiplication problems, and to my right I saw her take a dowel from the barrel. She smashed the wooden rod into the back of my knees, and I almost fell to the floor. I took a deep breath and straightened up, preparing for the next hit. She paused for a moment between each smack, but as hard as it was, I refused to cry. After striking me for the fifth time, she told me to go sit down, and then she turned back to the class.

  “There will be absolutely no talking, unless I call on you!”

  I gingerly eased back into my chair, careful not to let the back of my knees make contact with anything. The rest of the morning was a blur; the pain kept me from concentrating. When we went back to the refectory at noon, Mary looked at the back of my legs.

  “Why didn’t ya cry? That’s all she wanted, then she would’ve stopped!”

  I knew Mary was right, and it might have been foolish of me, but I didn’t want to cry for that mean, fat nun.

  I was concerned about Brownie, and she was nowhere in sight. On the way back to class for the afternoon session I talked to Blackie. She thanked me for the spoon and told me she’d heard that Brownie was up in the dorm.

  During supper, I sat on the edge of the bench, careful not to let the back of my knees brush up against it. There was a lot of whispering around the table about a visiting priest.

  “They say he’s goin ta be a saint!”

  “He’s on the radio in America.”

  “They call him the Rosary Priest.”

  I wondered to myself if he could give Brownie a blessing and cure her.

  Sister Constance, accompanied by a young priest, came into the rec room when it was time for us to say the rosary. She introduced him as Father Doyle. He was a handsome, well-built man, with broad shoulders and a full head of reddish hair swept to the side. He knelt down in front of the room and his gentle smile and lyrical voice made the rosary sound like a beautiful song. The sting in the back of my knees made it hurt to kneel, but as we prayed, I forgot about the pain. There was something about Father Doyle’s voice—it was beautiful and sounded very holy. For the first time, the rosary had some meaning to me and I could see Father Doyle was a very special priest.

  Up in the dorm, I was glad to see Brownie was fast asleep in her bed. That night I prayed to God to help Brownie get well, and then I prayed for myself, to be sent to live with the Hanleys.

  It took several days for the burn behind my knees to go away and even longer for the welts to heal. In class, I concentrated on the lessons and didn’t say a word, even if someone else spoke to me.

  In October the cooler weather of autumn arrived, and Mary and I ran through the Ballinasloe Fair like we owned it. We didn’t feel like the little ones anymore, and we started talking about jumping the gate the next time the opportunity came around.

  When November arrived, the weather quickly turned bitter cold. Ireland’s dampness settled in my bones and I prayed for a good, warm coat. Dr. Green was coming to the industrial school weekly because so many girls were ill. Even the town’s children were missing class; some of them had clothes no warmer than ours. Sister Madeline said there was a bad bout of consumption. Three girls in my dorm were sent to the hospital with TB, and we never heard about them or saw them again.

  Christmas wasn’t much fun that year. Sister Angela got sick, and no one decorated the rec room, but at least we had our special meal. All I thought about was getting warm and wondering what the Hanleys were doing. Once again, I wished that I could’ve spent the holiday with them.

  When we returned to school in January, many of the children were still out sick. I think Sister Madeline and I were the only ones that didn’t get ill that winter, and she began to take a liking to me. Whenever she called on me in class, I knew the answer.

  As spring approached I wondered if Mrs. Hanley would visit again, like she had the year before. But the only thing that came to me that spring was the nits. Almost everyone had them and Dr. Green sent over an ointment to be put into our hair. Angela, the girl with the long, lovely red hair from the laundry, used a metal comb on my head to get them out.

  “Why don’t you have em?”

  “I get in the tub before the rest of ye. It’s a benefit from workin in the laundry.”

  “I’m mad with the itch!”

  “Well don’t let the nuns hear ya complainin. They shaved Rose’s head this mornin.”

  I didn’t know who Rose was, but I spotted her in the refectory. The poor girl was shaved bald.

  After that day, Mary and I got to the head of the line on bath days.

  June arrived and there was still no sign of Mrs. Hanley. I began to worry that I wouldn’t be going to Galway for holiday. I fretted in the yard, and in her way, Mary tried to comfort me.

  “Yer better off stayin here. Tis just a tease when they send ya out. Another way fer the nuns ta torture ya.”

  She was right. It felt like torture each time I had to return from Galway.

  The school year ended and it was a warm day in July when the nuns left for a conference day in Dublin, providing Mary and I the opportunity we’d been waiting for. We jumped the gate and stood in the lane, unsure of what to do next. A group of girls were heading toward the orchard and we followed behind them. Theresa stopped us as we turned toward the river.

  “Where ya goin?”

  “Why?”

  “Just warning ya, keep away from the farm and the greenhouse.”

  “Why?”

  “Mr. Campbell’s son, Mathew, is workin. He’s always tryin ta get at the girls.”

  We had no plans to go to the farm or greenhouse and decided we’d better stay with the group.

  I went to bed that night telling myself I didn’t need to go to Galway. Mary and I could make our own fun. She was right, going on holiday was a tease and a form of torture.

  The following day, when Sister Constance read the list of girls going on holiday, I was
elated to hear my number called.

  CHAPTER SIX

  W hen the Galway Bay came into view, I pinched myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream. As the train pulled into the station, I spotted Mrs. Hanley in the crowd. I ran across the platform and greeted her with a big hug, and then she motioned to the pram beside her.

  “Peg, this is Ryan, our new baby boy.”

  My mouth opened, but no words came out, and my heart felt like it dropped into my stomach. I tried to hide my shock by looking into the pram, pretending to be curious. The baby was lying on his stomach and I couldn’t see his face—there was just a head of curly blond hair.

  “That’s yer baby?”

  Mrs. Hanley smiled and nodded. She didn’t seem to notice my displeasure. As we walked through town, I wondered if he was the reason she hadn’t come to visit me at the industrial school. We stopped in front of the sweet shoppe and she went inside alone. I looked into the pram again and gave the baby a poke. He squirmed a bit but didn’t make a sound. I was about to pinch him when the shoppe door opened and Mrs. Hanley came out with a small bag of sweets for me.

  At the house, the table was set for tea, and a freshly baked loaf of bread was cooling on the window sill.

  “I’m goin ta give Ryan a bottle first. Why don’t ya change inta one of the frocks I left on the bed?”

  I went to the bedroom and changed my clothes. Then I sat on the bed and cried, thinking my chances for becoming part of this family had abruptly come to an end.