The House Children

by Heidi Daniele

  My first year of Secondary School had been difficult but interesting, and I became an avid reader. Sister Theresa encouraged my new passion and allowed me to borrow a few books to read over the summer. I’d been grateful to her, as reading would help me pass the long boring days of summer. I decided to bring the books to Galway and read the Shakespeare play The Merchant of Venice on the train.

  Norah looked well and appeared genuinely happy to see me when I arrived that summer of 1950. I greeted Ryan and Rachel warmly and thought it was sweet when Ryan insisted on holding my hand as we made our way back to the house. While Norah pushed Rachel in the stroller, she asked me about my recovery and how I finished up the school year. I didn’t mention the harshness imposed by Sister Constance, but I told her about the compassion offered by the boarders.

  At the house, over tea, Norah asked me several questions about my classmates. She was very curious about what towns they came from and their surnames. I gladly shared the information, and added that a few of the girls were hoping to emigrate to America after their studies. She rolled her eyes and then jumped up from the table.

  “Oh my, if ya hadn’t mentioned America, I’d have forgotten,” she said. She took an envelope out of the drawer in the kitchen cupboard and handed it to me.

  My heartbeat quickened as I read the return address on the back of the envelope.

  Connor Coogan, 87 Fordham Road, Apt. 4B, Bronx, NY

  Norah watched as I opened the envelope and removed the letter and four stamps that had been placed in the fold.

  June 17, 1950

  Dear Peg,

  My mam told me about your surgery and I hope you have recovered. I am sure it was painful. A boy from my class was off his feet for three weeks after an appendectomy.

  I turn 17 this summer and asked my parents to sign the papers for me to enlist in the Air Force, but they have refused, so I will have to wait another year. They insist that I finish High School and they are still trying to persuade me to go to Fordham College. I hope you had a good school year.

  Do you have anything special planned for the summer?

  I’m taking a job at a local market stocking shelves since we aren’t traveling this summer.

  I’ve enclosed some first edition stamps for you to add to your collection. I can send you more if you like.

  Please write to me, I’d like to hear from you. I didn’t have your address, so I sent the letter c/o Auntie Norah.

  Have a great summer and try and stay out of the hospital!

  Fondly,

  Connor

  I showed Norah the stamps and told her what Connor wrote, but I didn’t show her the letter. Later in the evening I helped her prepare supper and for the first time Norah talked to me about the industrial school.

  “Peg, I know livin with the nuns can’t be easy,” she said, “but yer doin quite well. Especially now with yer secondary education.”

  “Yes, I’m grateful for that.”

  “There’s many a child that’d be grateful ta have a roof over their head and food in their belly.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Ya know, those poor Lowery children, two doors down,” said Norah, “their pa comes home with the drink in him every night! What kind of life is that fer them?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said in a low voice, thinking to myself that it would be better to live with your family than at Saint Thomas’.

  Seemingly bothered by my response, Norah changed the subject.

  Ryan slept in a makeshift bed in his parents’ room and Rachel slept in the bed with me. She was already sound asleep when I finally went to bed. I looked at her peaceful, happy face and wondered what I was like at her age. I fell asleep feeling sad that I had no memories of a childhood, no stories or photographs.

  Norah treated me differently during this visit, more like an adult. She let me make the bread each morning on my own and sent me to town to do errands. I took my time and walked by the Spanish Arches and sat by the pier to watch the boats pull in and unload their daily catch. Once I’d stopped in Saint Nicholas’ Church and used the halfpenny Norah gave me to light one of the candles at the foot of the Blessed Virgin Mary statue.

  Norah had planned a full day for us at the strand in Salt Hill. I felt like the big sister, holding Rachel’s hand in the water while we splashed back and forth with Ryan. Norah even joined us in the playful water fight. We built a sand castle, and took turns filling the pail with water for the moat. It was a perfect summer day and Norah didn’t rush us to get home.

  During supper, we had a great laugh telling Dan about the grand time we had. He listened as Norah and I shared a banter on who won the water fight and who built the tallest tower on our sand castle. The lighthearted exchange made me forget I was just a guest in their home. I felt at ease and very comfortable sitting around the family dinner table.

  Granny came over on Wednesday morning for her usual cup of tea when she was done at the market. She looked well, but repeated herself often. During our conversation she seemed a bit confused and called me Norah. After she left, Norah expressed her concern to me.

  “My mam’s memory is slippin. Her mind goes back inta time and she talks about the past as if it were taday. The locals at the market must think she’s goin mad!”

  “It doesn’t matter what they think.”

  “Some days she’s fine and other days, I feel as if I’m losing her.”

  Tears slipped from Norah’s eyes. I was touched that she shared the sadness she felt. It was the first intimate conversation we had shared. I reached out and gently patted her on the shoulder, resisting my urge to embrace her. I no longer felt like a child on holiday. I began to feel more like a relative, someone who knew things about the family that weren’t discussed outside of the house.

  That afternoon we went into town and then to Eyre Square. Norah and I sat on a bench watching Ryan and Rachel play. An older gentleman came over and said hello to us. He smiled at me and then looked at Norah.

  “Is this the lass Dan said ya have in ta help out in the house?”

  “Tis, Uncle Pat,” said Norah. Then she quickly turned to me. “Would ya get the children? Tis time ta go.”

  I tried to hide the hurt that I’m sure showed on my face. Looking down at the ground, I went to get the children. It sounded like she and Dan told people I was hired help. She didn’t even introduce me. I felt deeply hurt by this, especially after sharing such an emotional morning. When I returned to the bench with Ryan and Rachel in tow, the man was gone. Quietly we returned to the house.

  In bed that night, I realized I’d been fooling myself for so many years. I’d maintained a hope of being loved by Norah and Dan. Every summer, I’d arrive dreaming I’d be asked to stay. The welcome I felt in their home was not real, at least not the way I wanted it to be. It was like the quote from the play I’d been reading, “All that glitters is not gold.” It was just an illusion, my imagination.

  My disappointment left me searching for an alternate dream. I began to think more about traveling to America. Receiving the letter from Connor made the idea more enticing. I vowed to myself to end this fantasy of becoming part of the Hanley family. My new dream would be about starting a new life in America.

  Over the next few days, Norah and I went on as if nothing happened. It was as if she’d never confided in me or disregarded my feelings in the park. The days passed smoothly, but I still felt the pain.

  Delia came to visit on Friday, and Norah invited me to sit with them for tea. I found her inconsistent way of treating me to be confusing. After tea, I excused myself and sat in the green chair by the fireplace to reread The Merchant of Venice. Distracted by their conversation in the background, I put the book down. I picked up the top piece of clothing in Norah’s mending basket at the chair’s side. Norah used a basic hemming stitch that Sister Carmel had taught us. I threaded a needle and finished the mending. Then I started working on the next piece, and kept going until all the clothes were done. When I looked up
Delia was gone—I hadn’t noticed that she’d left.

  Late Saturday morning, I set the table for tea. Norah was expecting her mam to stop in when she was done at the market. She seemed relieved when Granny arrived and cheerfully placed a basket of vegetables on the table. We sat down to tea and listened to Granny talk about who she’d seen at the market and what she’d sold. Norah looked pleased that it appeared to be a good day for her mam in more ways than one. After refilling the teacups, Norah disappeared from the kitchen and returned with Rachel’s petticoat.

  “Mam, look at these perfect stitches,” said Norah, handing the garment to Granny. “Peg took it upon herself ta mend it, and she did a wonderful job!”

  I was surprised by this, as Norah hadn’t acknowledged that I’d done all her mending yesterday. Granny turned the petticoat inside- out, examining my work and nodding with approval.

  She looked at me curiously and asked, “Peg, how old are ya now?”

  “Thirteen,” I said.

  “Are ya still in school?”

  “Yes, Granny. I’m in Secondary School.”

  “Yer lucky ta be in school. There’s many a girl yer age workin.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Then she held up the garment, “Ya did this?”

  “I did,” I said. “Sister Carmel taught us how ta mend in our Domestic Science Class. We’re goin ta learn ta cook, too.”

  “That’s what they’re teaching ya in school!” exclaimed Granny. “Classes are fer readin, writin, and arithmetic. Everythin else ya can learn here at home, from yer mam.”

  Norah dropped a dish causing it to shatter on the floor. Then there was dead silence. I looked at Norah. Her face was white, and her lower lip was quivering. Our eyes met for a second and she quickly looked away. I looked over at Granny. Her eyes were darting around the room as if to avoid making contact with anyone, and she nervously twisted Rachel’s petticoat in her hands.

  I stood up and raised my voice. “Granny, what do you mean—’from my mam’?”

  It was more of a demand than a question.

  Granny said nothing. I looked over at Norah as she brought up her hands and covered her face. I suddenly recalled that moment seven years ago, when I was taken away from Granny’s farm by a strange woman in a strange car. I recalled looking out the back window as it drove away, and seeing Norah hide her face, just as she did in this moment. And then I knew. Norah Hanley was my mam. She’d been there all along, but could not, would not, tell me.

  Suddenly, I felt physically ill. An uncontrollable whirlpool of emotions flooded my body. I wanted to charge at Norah and physically hurt her. I wanted to yell and scream at the top of my lungs, but my feet wouldn’t move, and a surge of sobs prevented me from forming words.

  The front door opened, jolting me out of my shock. I turned and raced toward the door, almost knocking over Ryan as he entered the house. I ran down the hill as fast as I could, a million thoughts racing through my mind.

  When I stopped running to catch my breath, I found myself in front of Saint Nicholas’ Church. I felt numb and weak. I went inside the church and sat down in a pew. I cried aloud and asked God, “Why did she give me away? How could she give me to the nuns? Why did she keep her other two children and not me?”

  I begged God for an explanation over and over again, but none came. An elderly priest appeared at my side and placed his hand on my shoulder and slid into the pew beside me. I felt ashamed to speak to him about my pain. He urged me to have faith in him as a man of God. He listened compassionately as I told him, through my tears and gasps for air.

  It felt like I was telling him my confession, even though I did nothing wrong. Afterwards, I looked to him with hope that he could absolve me of my situation.

  “Dan and Norah Hanley are fine people,” he said.

  “But what about me?”

  “Young lady, when a sin of that nature occurs,” he said, “there really is no other alternative.”

  “A sin of what nature?” I asked.

  “My dear child, it’s too difficult to explain to a girl your age,” he said. “For now, you must accept your situation and be grateful for what you have.”

  I paused for a moment, then said, somewhat defiantly, “I’m sorry, Father, but I don’t feel grateful right now.”

  The priest stood up. “It’s getting late,” he said. “Let’s get you back to the Hanleys’.”

  Reluctantly, I returned to the Hanleys’ house with the priest escorting me. I stepped inside behind him when Dan opened the door. Dan and the priest stepped outside and I was left standing there, glaring at Norah. She looked at me with her red-rimmed eyes.

  “Peg, please sit down,” she said in a barely audible voice. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t tell ya.”

  I didn’t respond—I didn’t even want to look at her.

  “Please let me explain,” she said.

  The sound of her voice only angered me, and I couldn’t stop myself from lashing out at her. “Explain? What is there ta explain?”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” she began, but then I interrupted her.

  “I don’t want ta hear it!” I shouted at her angrily.

  I meant it. I couldn’t listen to her. I didn’t want to hear her voice and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the reason she abandoned me and then lied to me.

  Dan came back inside without the priest. It was the first time since I’d known Dan that he looked sullen and tired, and had nothing at all to say.

  I left the house and sat out in the yard by the shed. At suppertime, I sat at the table, unable to eat. The silence was only broken by Ryan’s comments. When darkness came, I went inside to my bedroom and put on my sleeping gown. I had no more tears to shed, and my pain had turned to anger. I lay down on the bed beside Rachel. She instantly curled up against me. The warmth of her small body was comforting, but inside I still felt pain.

  I cried most of the night, pretending to be asleep when I heard Norah come to the door.

  The next morning, I stayed in the bedroom until it was time to leave for mass. Then I walked into the kitchen carrying my satchel. Dan and Norah were sitting at the table and a tense silence filled the room, broken only by the children’s voices as they played on the floor.

  “I’ll wait outside,” I said and walked out the front door. Dan walked out behind me with Ryan, followed by Norah with Rachel in the stroller. I walked ahead of them, holding my head up and looking straight ahead. Ryan ran up to me and reached for my free hand, which caused me to cry.

  During mass I begged God to help me understand. How could Norah have done this to me?

  When mass ended, I told Dan I was going to the station. I couldn’t return to their house.

  “I’m so sorry, Peg,” said Dan, in a heartfelt way.

  Norah stood behind him, her eyes bloodshot, tears rolling down her cheeks. I felt no pity for her. All I felt was anger and confusion.

  “Peg, what about breakfast?” she asked.

  “I’m not hungry,” I said angrily.

  I said goodbye to the children and left for the station without looking back. The train wasn’t due for two more hours. I sat on the platform, feeling numb and exhausted from what I’d just been through.

  So many questions ran through my mind during the ride back to Ballinasloe. For the first time ever, I wished I didn’t know who my mam was. I was not experiencing the joy and love I’d expected I would feel upon learning who my family was.

  As I walked back to the industrial school from the Ballinasloe station, I spotted Mary sitting in the Fair Green, talking to a boy. She looked up and saw me coming down the street.

  “Hey Peg, do ya want a fag?” she asked, waving a package of Woodbines in the air.

  The boy left as I walked toward her. I went over and sat down on the grass beside her.

  “Ya look terrible,” she said. “What happened?”

  Mary sat quietly and listened to my story. When I was done, she leaned over and hugged me, and I cried on h
er shoulder.

  “I always had a feelin there was some kind of connection there,” she said.

  I composed myself, and we walked back to the industrial school together. I went to the blue door, and Mary jumped the gate.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  K atie stopped me in the hallway. She didn’t seem to notice I’d been crying, and if she did, she didn’t mention it.

  “After ya put yer things away, the Reverend Mother wants ta see ya,” she said.

  I ran up to the dorm and unpacked my satchel. At the bottom of the bag I saw Connor’s letter. I hesitated, knowing I should go see the Reverend Mother right away, but I decided to reread it again. I was still amazed that he thought about me, and I appreciated his concern about my surgery. I looked at the stamps again and wondered if he already had them or picked them out especially for me. His letter was the only good thing I’d left Galway with. I slipped it into my red purse and put it in my box. Then I rushed out of the dorm, only stopping in the washroom to wipe my face. I wished there were mirrors so I’d be able to see how I looked.

  The Reverend Mother was in the foyer of the convent speaking with Sister Constance. I stood off to the side and waited. When they were done, she turned to me.

  “Welcome back, Peg,” said Mother Bernard. “I hope you had a nice holiday.”

  I put a false smile on my face and nodded.

  “I’d like you to work in the china press for the rest of the summer.”

  I knew this was a big deal, but I was too upset to get excited.

  “Thank you, Mother Bernard.”

  “There’s great responsibility that goes with the job,” she said.

  “I won’t let you down,” I replied.

  “Report to Sister Rita right after morning mass.”

  “Yes, Mother Bernard. Thank you very much,” I said, trying to show some appreciation.

  “You’ll take your meals from the convent kitchen,” she said.