The House Children

by Heidi Daniele

  “You’ll be taking an exam this Saturday at ten o’clock. The exam is on mathematics and reading comprehension.”

  She dismissed us without further explanation, and we didn’t ask any questions—we’d been trained never to question the nuns.

  “I wonder what that’s all about,” I said as we left the Primary School.

  “Secondary School admission,” said Clare.

  “How do ya know that?” asked Patsy.

  “My pa sent me a letter. He said Mother Bernard said I can attend Secondary School if I pass the examination and he can pay my tuition.”

  “Ya may be right,” said Patsy. “My aunt paid fer my sister Margy ta go ta nursin school after she found out she was washin the floors in the rectory. Maybe she spoke ta Mother Bernard about sending me ta Secondary School so I don’t have ta be a skivvy when I leave here.”

  I knew if Clare was right, then there was a big mistake. There was no one to pay my tuition.

  On Saturday morning, the three of us took the exam with a dozen other girls. The proctor, a plain-looking man with a bald head and rather pale skin, read from an attendance sheet, “Mary Margaret Joyce.”

  I wasn’t used to being called by my given name, and I hesitated for a moment before raising my hand.

  He distributed the test, and then set a timer. Two hours later, he collected our papers and told us the exams would be graded in Dublin and the results would sent by mail at the end of January.

  It was a few days before Christmas. I was on my way to the convent chapel when Erin stopped me outside of the china press.

  “Mother Bernard wants ta see ya in her office when yer done.”

  I quickly polished the pews and rushed over to her office. Sister Xavier was seated just outside of the office and pointed to the door as I approached.

  “Go on in, Mother Bernard is waiting for you.”

  I pushed the hair out of my face and patted down my clothing before gently turning the knob on the heavy door. Mother Bernard was sitting in a high-back chair behind a large wooden desk. On her desk was a black telephone, a neat pile of papers, a ledger, and a small brown box. Behind her was a highly polished credenza filled with books and one small framed photograph of two young girls.

  “A parcel arrived for you,” she said, sliding the box across her desk toward me.

  I glanced down at the box and then back at her. She nodded, “Go ahead, take it.”

  “What’d she want?” Erin called to me as I rushed pass the china press toward the corridor leading to the back door.

  “I got a package!” I said excitedly, holding up the box.

  I stood against the wall, with the box behind my back, waiting for one of the bathroom stalls to be free. Finally, in private, I removed the contents—a stack of light blue writing paper, matching envelopes, and a Christmas card. I opened the card. It held another American five-dollar bill.

  December 5, 1948

  Dear Peg,

  The weather has been dreadfully cold here. We don’t have the dampness you have in Ireland, but we do have lots of snow and freezing temperatures. The boys love to play outside building snowmen and sleigh riding, I’ve got a job to get them back in the house.

  The holiday season is upon us and we are all very excited. This year my brother Martin and his new wife, along with my sister Margaret, her husband James and their son Connor will be coming to celebrate Christmas Day with us. It’ll be grand to have them here, but I do miss Granny and Norah terribly during the holidays.

  Please let me know how you fared on the entrance exams.

  I’ve enclosed some money for you to buy stamps and look forward to hearing from you soon.

  Have a Merry Christmas,

  God Bless,

  Auntie Hannah

  And so I learned who would fund my secondary education, if I passed the exam. I couldn’t keep the news to myself and ran to the yard to find Mary and Patsy.

  “Maybe she’s yer mam!” said Patsy.

  “That’d make sense,” said Mary. “Why else would she be sendin that money?”

  Suddenly, I wished that I hadn’t mentioned it to them.

  I couldn’t fall asleep that night, wondering if Hannah could be my mam. Did she leave me behind so she could go to America? Is it guilt that made her send me clothes every summer? Was Norah Hanley keeping tabs on me for her sister?

  I cried myself to sleep that night, and every other night through the Christmas holiday. I didn’t write to Hannah as she’d asked me to.

  At the end of January, Clare, Patsy, and I were called to Mother Bernard’s office. The frosty morning air bit at our skin as we ran over to the convent. Nervously, we sat in the brocade-covered chairs in front of her desk while she reviewed papers Sister Xavier handed to her. I noticed the frame on her credenza had been moved and I wondered who the two girls in the photograph were.

  Mother Bernard put down the papers, folded her hands in front of her and smiled.

  “You’ve passed the entrance examination, and the three of you will be attending Scoil Mhuire Secondary School in September.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  S ister Eucharia wore us down with prayers for our salvation, and the end of the school year couldn’t come quick enough for me. Even the drudgery of the yard looked inviting after listening to her lectures about chastity and the evil temptations that we would be challenged by.

  While Patsy and I stood in line to trade in our shoes for summer sandals, we talked about the changes we’d noticed in Mary. Mary was grieving her sister’s departure to Dublin; she’d been sent there for her situation, cleaning at Saint Vincent’s Hospital. She was isolating, frequently sneaking off on her own. I knew it also pained her that Patsy and I were admitted to Secondary School and she was not even offered the opportunity.

  Later, in the yard, Patsy fretted about being alone during my trip to Galway. She was considered something of an outcast in the industrial school, and hardly had any friends. It had been especially difficult for her, since she’d been one of the town’s children until she was ten, when her mother died. I couldn’t imagine how awful it must be for her. It was a struggle for me to adjust after returning from just one week of a normal life in Galway. I hated readjusting to the restrictions of our routine, the institutional food, and most of all, the lack of individuality. Life at the industrial school could be depressing, especially after experiencing the alternative. Neither of my two best friends were happy, and there was nothing I could do to help them.

  On my way to the train station I saw Mary sitting with a boy in the green. I waved, but she ignored me.

  “She’s lookin fer trouble!” said one of the girls I was walking with.

  I nodded in agreement, feeling concerned about my dear friend. Seeing her confirmed the rumors I’d heard about her jumping the gate to hang around with boys.

  I boarded the train and carefully placed my satchel on the overhead shelf and settled into my seat. I watched with envy as a mother and daughter interacted in the seat ahead of me. The mother adjusted the girl’s hair clips, and spoke softly to her, as if sharing a secret. I closed my eyes and visualized myself sitting with my own mother, talking and laughing. My mother would look down at me and smile, and in my mind, my mother had Hannah’s face. The tears welled up in my eyes, and I turned my head to look out of the window as I tried to dismiss the thought. I conjured up the image of myself dressed in a Secondary School uniform, attending classes and socializing with my classmates. My fear of rejection and being taunted by the girls of privilege emerged in my daydream, so I pushed all my thoughts out of my mind and simply tried to take in the view of the passing farms and towns.

  Norah Hanley looked unsettled, standing on the platform with one hand bracing Rachel’s stroller and the other pulling at a fidgeting Ryan by her side. When we arrived at the house, she collapsed into the chair and stated she was exhausted and that the heat was getting to her. I saw her eye my satchel as I set it down on the floor, and I immediately felt uncomfor
table. I wondered if the satchel was a reminder of how Hannah had fussed over me. In an odd way, I felt like a pawn the two sisters struggled to take control of.

  I set the table, put the kettle on the burner, and gave Rachel a bottle. Ryan impatiently waited while I buttered a slice of bread for him before sending him out to the yard. All the while, Norah sat watching me from the chair.

  “Oh Peg, you’re a godsend,” she said as I poured the tea.

  I felt relieved that she seemed pleased with me when she sat down at the table. Then I told her my big news—that I’d passed the entrance exam for Secondary School. She appeared stunned and clearly knew nothing about it. I didn’t mention Hannah’s letters, realizing that, for some reason, Hannah chose not to tell her.

  During the first few days of my visit, I found myself working harder than I did at the industrial school. If I wasn’t doing household chores, I was watching Ryan and Rachel; but I was happy to help Norah because it made me feel needed and like part of their family. During supper, Dan asked Ryan to pick a horse in the upcoming races, and it triggered a memory of how I’d felt before the Hanleys had their own children. I recall arriving each year with the hope of never having to leave. They doted on me, making me feel special, making me feel wanted. After they had Ryan, I felt abandoned by them, and when they had Rachel, I began to lose all hope of being asked to stay. It had been my great desire to be their child, part of their family, and truthfully, that desire still remains deep within.

  On Wednesday morning, while I was making the bread, Norah told me her sister Margaret would be coming for tea with her husband and son. They were visiting from America and staying at a house in Salt Hill. I recalled Hannah mentioning them to me in her Christmas card and I was curious to meet them. I was setting the table when they arrived and was very surprised to see a handsome teenaged boy trail in behind his parents.

  Connor was especially friendly toward me and I enjoyed the attention. When Norah sent me out to watch Ryan and Rachel in the yard, he came along to keep me company. We talked easily and he told me all about his plans to join the United States Air Force. I told him I had an American stamp with a plane on it and he asked me if I was a stamp collector. In an effort to impress him, I said I was. He raised his eyebrows and said, “How interesting!”

  His comment left me without words so I smiled.

  “I’ll send you some stamps for your collection,” he said.

  “That would be nice.”

  “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for a pretty girl like you, Peg.”

  The blood rushed to my head and I looked down at the ground, I didn’t know what to say.

  Connor’s American accent made him sound so worldly, and I hung on to his every word. Thankfully he liked to talk, because I was too nervous and unsure of what to say. Before he left he winked at me and said, “I’ll see ya soon.”

  I went to bed thinking about the handsome American boy I’d become smitten with. Thoughts of him made my stomach feel like it was swirling, but not sickly. It was a new, uneasy, but welcoming feeling.

  The following day I was disappointed when Margaret arrived alone. She said Connor went to Moycullen with his pa to help Granny on the farm.

  While Margaret and Norah drank tea, I noticed they seemed to have more in common with each other than with Hannah. They even looked alike; they were both pretty, but not fashionable like their younger sister. Margaret spent the whole day with us, doing many of the chores around the house to give Norah a bit of rest. She also spent time doting on Ryan and Rachel, and I imagined she must have been a loving mother to Connor. When I shared that thought with Norah, she told me Connor had been adopted.

  “He was a Pan Am baby. Margaret paid a high price ta the Bon Secours ta have him sent ta America,” said Norah. “Adoption isn’t legal here ya know.”

  “Wow, he was lucky!”

  Norah looked annoyed by my exclamation.

  On Saturday morning I took extra time grooming myself. I wanted to look my best, since Norah said Connor was helping Granny at the market and they would be meeting Margaret here afterwards. Margaret arrived early and invited me to sit with her and Norah while they had tea. I told her about my admission to Secondary School and she was impressed. In Ireland, most children only went to Primary School from ages four to twelve. Secondary education was considered a privilege, reserved for those who could afford it.

  I asked her how she felt about Connor going to the Air Force when he completed school, and she said she hoped he’d change his mind and attend Fordham College where they lived in the Bronx, New York. She said she didn’t like the idea of him being up in the air.

  Ryan and Rachel came to the table looking for Margaret’s attention, and she got up and chased them before scooping them up one at a time and kissing them until they screamed. Norah rolled her eyes and said, “She dotes too much. She’ll be lost when Connor leaves.”

  Granny came into the house with Connor strolling in behind her, carrying two baskets full of produce. He set the baskets on the table and Granny patted him on the head like he was a little boy. “Thanks, Colin.”

  “Granny, I’m Connor, not Colin.”

  “Connor, of course,” she said, and sat down at the table and looked toward me. “I hear yer doin well in school.”

  “I am, Granny. I’ll be startin Secondary School in September.”

  “Well, that’s grand! But don’t forget yer basics.”

  Connor and I went out to the yard to keep an eye on Ryan and Rachel. We sat on the back step and I asked him what it was like living in America. He told me it was very different from Ireland.

  “Peg, I think you’d love it. You should make a trip over and see for yourself.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Well, if you come soon enough, I’ll still be there to show you around.”

  Granny came to the back door to say goodbye and gave us each a sixpence before leaving. Connor put the coin in his pocket, and I told him I wanted to put it in my purse so I wouldn’t lose it.

  “Go on,” he said, then nodded toward Ryan and Rachel. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

  While I was in the bedroom I could hear Norah and Margaret talking.

  “I’d love ta take Peg back with me,” said Margaret.

  “Well ya can’t. It’s out of the question,” said Norah.

  “Yer so selfish, Norah!”

  “It looks like Hannah’s sendin her ta Secondary School. She’s got ta stay in Ireland.”

  I sat on the bed stunned, feeling more confused than ever. Margaret wanted to take me to the States and Norah said no. I couldn’t believe Norah felt she had the authority to speak for me and use Hannah’s gift of Secondary School as a reason for me not to go. She didn’t even seem happy for me when I told her I’d been admitted. I became more baffled by the interest these three sisters showed in me, and I was sure of my belief that I belonged to them in some way. The thought of being kin to them angered me, because if that were true, then one of them should have taken me into their home. I knew Margaret couldn’t have children. Norah seemed to be around for as long as I could remember. She must be my mother . . . unless it’s Hannah and she chose to go to America instead of caring for me.

  I didn’t know what to do, and I couldn’t let them know I was listening. I tiptoed out of the bedroom to the back door. I sat down beside Connor and began to cry, and he reached over and stroked my hair. “What’s the matter ,Peg?”

  “Connor, please tell me. Do you know who my mam is?”

  Before he could answer, Margaret appeared at the door and in an angry voice said, “Connor, we’re leavin now.”

  Before leaving, Connor leaned into me and said, “Peg, I’m sorry I don’t know the answer to that question.”

  Norah’s brooding eyes kept me at bay the rest of the day. She didn’t eat during supper and spent most of the evening sulking around the house. Even Dan picked up on her mood and left for the pub after we ate. I wanted to understand what was going on,
but knew I couldn’t ask her.

  In bed that night, instead of thinking about Connor, I replayed what I’d overheard, and still could not make sense of it. Margaret wanted to take me to America, Norah said I could not go, and Hannah was paying for my secondary education. My feelings were conflicted. I was angry that I had been living as one of many in an institution for as long as I could remember, yet I felt grateful that these women cared about me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  W hen I returned to the industrial school, the confines of the yard seemed tighter than ever, and the lack of any diversion kept me deep within my thoughts. I’d sit with Patsy against the wall, knitting socks as her chatter loomed around me and a storm brewed inside my head. Anger and resentment toward Norah began to build, and my unanswered questions about who she was stirred a broad range of unforgivable possibilities.

  I was grateful when summer’s end provided new things to do and think about. Crowded into the rec room with the others, I listened for my number.

  “. . . number 27, polishing the nuns’ dayroom.”

  As a smile crossed my face, Mary’s voice rose from behind me.

  “Sounds ta me like ya’ve become someone’s pet!”

  I ignored her comment, and took a slight bit of satisfaction when her number was called and she was assigned to the laundry. It wasn’t that I hated Mary; I loved her, but her recent actions made me feel that she didn’t value our friendship the way I had. There were many days I reached out to her and she didn’t respond. I knew she felt abandoned by her sister, and her ego was bruised when she wasn’t offered an opportunity to attend Secondary School, but these things weren’t my fault.