by Sandy Taylor
There was colour everywhere. I recognised the pale blue of the cornflowers and the deep yellow of the marigolds, growing side by side amongst flowers I hadn’t seen before. Creamy golds, purples and pinks, feathery grey leaves and bright oranges. I felt as though I had walked into the pages of The Secret Garden. I was the spoilt little orphan, Mary Lennox, and Eddie was the boy, Dickon.
The grass was a carpet of white daisies. I had a notion to just sit there and make chains like I did as a child. This garden made me feel like a child, this garden made me want to lift my arms up beyond the tall trees to the sunshine and giggle.
Kitty was still standing just inside the gate. I looked at her and smiled. I wanted her to feel what I was feeling. I beckoned her over and she knelt down beside me on the grass. It was so silent. The only sound was the swaying of the tall trees and the rustling of the leaves as a warm breeze drifted through the branches. It reminded me of the moment when Father Kelly turned the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ. That was the bit when everyone bowed their heads in prayer. Well, you were supposed to be praying, but mostly me and Kitty were counting down the minutes to the end of Mass when we could escape and go about our business.
‘Do you remember when we used to make daisy chains, Kitty?’
‘Up at the graveyard?’
I nodded and smiled, thinking of Kitty and me sitting beside my namesake’s grave, picking daisies and making them into garlands to lay beside the little wooden cross. I could sense Eddie staring at me. I looked up at him as he pushed his dark curly hair out of his eyes. I knew that he was proud of this garden. I knew that he wanted me to like it. He waited for me to speak.
I felt a lump forming in my throat; this beautiful place made me want to cry. I wished I had the words to tell him how I felt. I wished I could summon up one of Grandad Doyle’s special words. I took a deep breath and smiled at him. ‘I think it’s magical,’ I said.
The first thing I did when I got home was to take my book from the bottom shelf and sit on the floor, leaning my back against the old wooden bookcase. I opened the first page and read the inscription there:
Christmas 1919
To sweet Nora, who loves to read.
I think that every child should find their own secret garden,
whether in reality or within the pages of a book.
I hope you find yours, Nora.
With love from your Grandad Doyle.
Well I had found mine, but the garden was not the only secret. It was where the garden was that was the biggest secret of all.
Seven
It was the beginning of the summer holidays and the days stretched ahead of us, with nothing to do but enjoy ourselves. Mostly we went out to the beach or walked along the wood road or scrounged pennies to have an ice cream at Minnie’s. I couldn’t stop thinking about the garden, and kept hoping that Kitty would suggest that we went there again but she never did, even though I talked about it all the time.
‘For God’s sake, Nora,’ she said. ‘It’s just a garden, have you never seen a garden before?’
Kitty said it as if we were surrounded by gardens, when all she had was a back yard full of Henry the pig’s shite and all I had was a field.
‘Not like that one,’ I said. I wanted to mention the book to her but although I was a fierce reader, Kitty only liked the comic books and there were no secret gardens in comic books. ‘Wouldn’t you like to see it again, Kitty?’
‘And do what? My clothes were ruined and Mammy was awful cross with me and I couldn’t tell her where I’d been, because you weren’t supposed to be there and I didn’t want to give you away.’
‘You’re a good friend, Kitty,’ I said. ‘And I thank you for not giving me away.’
‘That’s what friends are for, Nora. Besides, I didn’t take much of a liking to the boy. He has awful airs and graces about him for the son of a groom and he walked behind Mrs Hickey’s coffin, done up like a dog’s dinner as if he was family.’
‘I think maybe he was obliged to go.’
‘Grandad Doyle?’ said Kitty.
I nodded. ‘It means he had to.’
‘Well maybe I’m judging him too harshly.’
‘Shall we go back, then?’
‘Well I suppose we might as well – we’ve nothing better to do. The whole town seems to be brimming over with good health, so I’m thinking there’s not much hope of a funeral.’
‘But isn’t old Biddy Dunne on her last legs?’ I said.
‘Old Biddy Dunne has been on her last legs for years. I’d say she’ll outlive us all.’
‘I’ve been thinking, Kitty. Isn’t it a sin to be wishing people dead?’
‘I’d say if it was a sin, then God in His holy wisdom would have added an eleventh commandment. Thou shalt not wish your neighbour dead, just so you can attend their funeral,’ said Kitty, grinning. ‘And wouldn’t Father Kelly have had something to say about it by now?’
‘You’re right, he would. I’ll stop worrying about it.’
* * *
Later that day I was helping Daddy clean out Bonnie’s stable. Bonnie was almost pure white except for a flash of black down her nose. She was a gentle horse who loved to be stroked. Whenever she saw me, she gave this soft whinny as if she was saying hello. We used to have a horse called Blue but he was taken up to Heaven. Mammy and Daddy cried a lot when he died and so did Grandad Doyle.
‘Do you still miss Blue, Daddy?’ I said.
‘He was a very special horse, Nora,’ he said. ‘Your mammy was only a wee slip of a thing when they first met and she was mighty frightened of him. She used to come on the milk round with me and in time the pair of them became great friends. He was a gentle fellow, with a big heart. It was hard to say goodbye to him.’
I had loved Blue too, but I wasn’t allowed to ride him because he was old and tired and deserved to spend his last days in the meadow eating the good fresh grass and enjoying the sunshine.
I liked to think that this was something me and Eddie had in common. Being the son of a groom, he would know all about horses. Maybe I would tell him about Blue and Bonnie the next time I saw him.
I scraped the big shovel across the hay and Daddy threw big buckets of water over the floor.
‘Daddy?’ I said.
‘Yes, love?’
‘Do you know why Mammy won’t let me go near Bretton Hall?’
Daddy walked out of the stable towards the barn to get fresh hay for Bonnie’s bed. I put down the shovel and ran after him. ‘Did she have a falling-out with the Honourables?’
‘You’ll have to ask your mammy that, Nora, but not right now, for the baby will soon be born and I don’t want you dragging up the past.’
‘I won’t say anything, Daddy. I was just wondering, that’s all.’
‘Well, it’s nothing for you to be worrying your head about, Nora. It was all a long time ago and best left in the past, where it belongs. Bretton Hall is nothing special and should hold no interest for you. You have Paradise Alley and for now, that’s all any of us need.’
‘Right, Daddy, I was just wondering.’
‘Talking about your mammy,’ he went on, ‘she needs your help now; she tires easily and I don’t want her doing too much. I need you to be helping out more in the house.’
‘What about Stevie? Shouldn’t Stevie be helping too?’
‘Stevie is only eight, and he is not strong. You’re thirteen. Right now, your mother is more important than running the hills and lanes with Kitty Quinn and forever having your nose stuck in a book.’
‘Are you cross with me, Daddy?’ My eyes were filling with tears – his tone was harsher than I was used to.
Daddy threw down the hay and took me in his arms. ‘Of course, I’m not, my darling girl. I’m just worrying about your mammy. I’m sorry if I sounded cross. I’m proud of your book reading and I know that your grandad is too, but I would like you to help out more.’
‘I will, Daddy,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and help he
r right away.’
‘Good girl,’ he said, ruffling my hair.
I started running back to the house, then turned around and smiled. ‘I’m still praying for a healthy little girl with brown curly hair like mine,’ I shouted.
Eight
Me and Kitty were down the quayside watching the lads jumping into the water.
‘Look at that feller, Nora,’ said Kitty, pointing across to the lads who were jumping into the water.
‘Which one?’ I said.
‘The desperate handsome one with the fair hair.’
I looked at the boy – he was taller than the others, and looked a few years older than us. We knew most of the boys in the town but I’d never seen him before.
‘Do you think he’s visiting from England?’ said Kitty. ‘Or maybe America?’
‘How would I know?’
‘I was just asking,’ she snapped.
I was in no humour today to be wondering where the boy had sprung from. I was doing my best to help out in the house and my arms were only hanging off my shoulders from dragging water from the pump into the house. Stevie was less than useless.
‘Sorry, Kitty, I have no humour on me today. I’m worn out doing all the chores.’
‘I can help,’ said Kitty, putting her arm around my shoulder.
I smiled gratefully at my friend. ‘Would you come out to the wood road with me? I have to gather sticks for the fire.’
‘I will, of course,’ she said. ‘We can take Sean’s pram so we won’t have to carry the stuff back.’
‘Thanks, Kitty.’
There were loads of people on the quayside. Women were sitting on the wall chatting to each other while keeping an eye on their little ones, who were playing chase around the boats. Children were welcoming the fishermen back with their haul of fish. Seagulls flew above us, screeching and squawking, waiting for a good feed. I watched as the men stepped out onto the quay, dragging nets full of slippery fish that squirmed and slithered as they threw them on the warm stones. The seagulls swooped down, pecking at the poor things.
‘Not much of a life, is it?’ said Kitty, staring at the fish. ‘I bet when they woke up this morning, they didn’t know it was going to be their last day on earth.’
‘I don’t suppose any of us do, Kitty,’ I said, staring at the shiny fish flapping and twitching on the ground, with their dead eyes staring up to the sky and their mouths open as if they were surprised to find themselves there.
‘Do you think they’ve left family behind, Nora? Do you think there are mammy and daddy fishes crying their eyes out for their murdered children?’
‘Murdered?’
‘Well, aren’t they?’
I thought about it. ‘I’m not sure you can murder a fish, Kitty. Didn’t Jesus himself feed the multitudes with bread and fishes? It would be blasphemous to accuse Jesus of murder.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that. Do you think I’ll have to confess?’
‘I’d say not, for you said it in all innocence.’
I looked over at the boy, who was laughing along with the others. His laughter was high and shrill, almost like a girl. The lads were play-fighting and pushing each other into the water. I watched as the fair-haired boy did a perfect dive off the quay, hardly making a ripple as he glided into the water.
Kitty grinned at me. ‘We must find out who he is.’
We walked across to Tommy Nolan, who we’d known at school. He was a couple of years older than us.
‘Who’s yer man, Tommy?’ asked Kitty.
‘You mean Finn?’
‘If I knew his name, Tommy Nolan, would I be asking who he is?’
‘We’re curious, Tommy,’ I said. ‘We’ve never seen him before.’
‘His name is Finn Casey and he’s over here from England to stay with his uncle.’
‘And who is this uncle of his?’
‘And why would I be telling you his business, Kitty Quinn?’ said Tommy, winking at me.
Kitty rolled her eyes. ‘Jesus, Tommy, will you just tell us.’
‘His uncle is Pat Lamey, the chauffeur up at the Hall.’
‘You mean Dooney the Unfortunate’s uncle?’
‘The very man,’ said Tommy.
I watched as the boy pulled himself back onto the quay. The sun caught his wet hair, making it shine, and his body glistened with the beads of water running down his back.
‘He’s related to Dooney the Unfortunate?’ I said, shocked at this piece of news.
‘They’re cousins, Norah.’
I thought about poor Dooney, locked away in the workhouse, and then I looked at the boy, so tall and strong and carefree. God played some desperate tricks on people. Maybe I’d ask Father Kelly what it all meant.
* * *
The next morning, I called for Kitty. The door was open so I walked in. ‘God bless all here,’ I said, dipping my finger into the holy water and making the sign of the cross.
Mrs Quinn was feeding Sean. She looked up at me and smiled. ‘Amen,’ she said.
‘Can we borrow Sean’s pushchair please, Mammy?’ said Kitty. ‘Nora must gather wood for the fire.’
‘Of course you can. You’re a good girl to be helping your mammy with the chores, Nora.’
Mrs Quinn made me feel guilty, because I didn’t help Mammy with a willing heart. I was cross every time she asked for my help and I could see the disappointment in my daddy’s eyes, but sure, it was the summer holidays and I had other things to do. I was not a good girl at all. I decided right there and then that I would find the finest sticks in the wood and bring them back to Mammy with a good heart and a smile on my face.
We wheeled the squeaky pushchair through the town and out the wood road. The sun had been shining when I left home but now there were dark clouds and mist rolling in over the hills and the first drops of rain were beginning to fall.
‘We’re going to get soaked,’ whined Kitty, looking up at the sky.
‘We have to pay no mind to the rain, Kitty. I must collect as much wood as I can. I’ve been awful moody about helping out.’
‘I’m the same,’ said Kitty. ‘Mammy’s threatening to tell Daddy when he next comes ashore.’
Kitty’s father, like a lot of the men in the town, was in the Merchant Navy and spent a lot of time at sea – in fact, he spent more time at sea than he did at home. That’s the way it was in Ballybun. Most of the men were working away, while the women took care of the house and the children.
‘Let’s make a pledge to do better,’ I said. ‘I can’t imagine Jesus pulling a face every time the Blessed Virgin Mary asked him to help with the dishes.’
‘Did they have dishes back then?’ said Kitty.
‘Well, they must have had something to eat out of,’ I said.
Kitty nodded. ‘The two of us have been selfish, Nora, but from this day we will be reformed girls. Jesus might even see his way clear to forgive me after calling him a murderer.’
We both felt better after that and happily filled the old pushchair to overflowing with the best sticks we could find. ‘We’ll split them between us,’ I said. ‘Then your mammy might think twice about telling your daddy that you’re not helping her in the house.’
We pushed the pram back through the woods, delighted with our offerings. It was hard going as the wonky wheel was very contrary and felt the need to go in the opposite direction to the other three wheels. We were halfway home when we saw Stevie running towards us, shouting my name. When he reached us, he bent over, holding his side.
‘What’s wrong, Stevie?’ I said urgently.
He straightened up, his face red and sweaty, and he could hardly speak.
‘It’s Mammy,’ he said, his eyes filling with tears. ‘She’s having the baby and Daddy and Grandad are on the milk round.’
Mammy wasn’t due to have the baby yet and I was afeared at Stevie’s words. ‘Is someone with her?’
Stevie nodded. ‘Mrs Heher, who delivers the babies.’
‘Did you
fetch her, Stevie?’
‘I did,’ he said, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper.
‘Then you are the best boy and Daddy will be very proud of you. Now, we must get back to Mammy.’
We abandoned the pushchair and started running – poor Stevie couldn’t keep up. I shouted back to him to go find Daddy. I didn’t know what time it was and where he’d have got to on the round. ‘Try Pasley’s, and if he hasn’t got to them yet, go to Sweeney’s and wait for him. Ask everyone you pass to look out for the milk cart and for them to tell Daddy that he has to go straight home.’
‘What if he’s already delivered the milk to Pasley’s?’
‘Then go to Mulligan’s. As quick as you can, Stevie.’
‘I will, Nora.’
‘Good boy.’
Kitty and I continued to run for home.
‘What can I do, Nora?’ asked Kitty.
‘Run back and get the pushchair. I’ll let you know what’s happening as soon as I can.’
When we got to Paradise Alley, Kitty put her arms around me. ‘May God be with your mammy this day,’ she said.
‘Thank you, Kitty,’ I said, running under the stone arch.
I could hear Mammy screaming as I got closer. There was a crowd of neighbours outside the house. They touched me as I passed and Mrs Collins pressed a string of rosary beads into my hand. I opened the door and ran upstairs, dropping the beads as I went. Mammy was on the bed. Her face was shiny with sweat and her eyes were glazed with the pain.