by Sandy Taylor
‘I’m here, Mammy,’ I said, kneeling down beside her. She turned away from me as another pain gripped her. I didn’t know what to do.
‘Will she be alright, Mrs Heher?’ I asked.
‘All we can do is wait, Nora. She’s in God’s hands now,’ she said, laying a wet rag on Mammy’s forehead. ‘Your father needs to be downstairs; it will give your mammy comfort to know he’s there.’
‘I’ve sent Stevie to look for him,’ I said.
Mammy started to scream. Her legs were open and her face was bright red.
‘That’s right, Cissy, push,’ urged Mrs Heher. ‘Push, girl, push.’
I held tight to Mammy’s hand. She squeezed it hard, digging her nails into the soft flesh, but I didn’t mind, I just wanted her to be alright. ‘Dear Lord Jesus, have pity on one of your own and help my mammy in her hour of need,’ I said softly.
‘One more push, Cissy,’ encouraged Mrs Heher. ‘Just one more push, that’s it, you’re doing great.’
I watched as Mrs Heher put her hands inside Mammy and helped the baby slither out onto the bed.
‘It’s over now, my love, it’s over and you have a fine boy.’
I looked at the baby laying so still on the bed. It didn’t move and it didn’t cry. Mrs Heher started rubbing its grey little body, then she turned to me. ‘Run for the doctor, Nora, run as fast as your legs will carry you.’
I ran down the stairs, pushed through the neighbours who were still outside and raced under the Archway and up the hill to Dr Kennedy’s house. I hammered on the door and Dr Kennedy opened it. He had a cup of tea in his hand and he was smoking his pipe.
‘What is it, Nora?’ he said.
‘Mammy’s had a baby boy and it’s dead. You have to make it come alive again, Doctor, you have to!’
Dr Kennedy went back into the house and came out again carrying his case. I watched him hurrying down the lane. I couldn’t move; it was as if my feet were nailed to the ground. I didn’t want to go back to the house, I couldn’t go back to the house. This was my fault; this was all my fault. And I couldn’t go back.
I ran and ran until my chest was so tight that I could hardly breathe. I was nearly there, nearly there. I kept going until I got to the gap in the fence. I squeezed through the brambles and stumbled down the path. I felt under the rock for the key but it wasn’t there. I pushed at the door and it opened. I threw myself down on the ground and sobbed and sobbed until there were no tears left. I was gasping for air, I couldn’t breathe, my mouth was open and I was clawing at the wet grass.
And then I felt someone helping me up and a gentle voice murmuring in my ear. ‘It’s okay, Nora, you’re okay.’
I leaned against Eddie and my breathing started to slow down and my heart stopped racing.
‘You’re safe now,’ he said gently. ‘You’re safe now.’
‘But it’s all my fault,’ I said.
‘What’s your fault, Nora?’
I moved away from him. ‘I killed my brother, Eddie. I killed my brother.’
‘You killed Stevie?’
‘Not Stevie. I prayed to God to send a healthy baby sister and to punish me, he sent a dead baby brother.’
‘Your mother gave birth to a dead baby?’ said Eddie, staring at me. ‘When?’
‘Just now. Oh, Eddie, what am I to do?’
‘That’s terrible, Nora, and I’m truly sorry for your family – but it isn’t your fault. I don’t know much about God, but I don’t think that He would be so cruel as to punish you just because you wanted a sister.’
I wanted to believe Eddie; I really did. I knew in my heart that God was a good God but Father Kelly said that he was also to be feared. Perhaps Eddie was right, perhaps it wasn’t my fault at all. I was cold and wet and I shivered. Eddie took off his jacket and put it around my shoulders. I looked at this boy who had the same curly hair as me and I felt comforted.
‘We have the same hair,’ I said.
‘We do,’ he said, smiling.
And there in the garden, as I listened to the rain dripping through the leaves and the soft breeze moving the branches, I knew that here, in this magical place, I would always be safe. But I couldn’t stay in the garden forever, I knew that I had to go home.
Eddie had wanted to walk with me but I knew that if we were seen in the town, word would reach Mammy and I would have to lie to her about where I had met him. I walked slowly; there was no point in hurrying now, the baby was dead and whether it was my fault or not, the house would be a sad place indeed. People smiled at me as I passed. I suppose the terrible news hadn’t got out yet. I didn’t smile back, because once they found out about the baby, they would shame me by saying I passed the time of day with a smile on my face when I should have been in mourning.
I walked under the archway and up Paradise Alley to the Grey House. People called out to me as I walked. ‘A blessed day, Nora,’ said Mr Hurley. ‘God is good,’ called Mrs Barry.
I started running, I burst through the door and went up the stairs to the bedroom. I stood at the bottom of the bed staring at Mammy, propped up against the pillows. The baby was in her arms and Stevie and Daddy were either side of her. She smiled at me and I started crying.
‘Come here, love,’ she said.
I crossed to the bed and laid my head down beside her. She stroked my hair, so gently.
‘I thought he was dead,’ I said.
‘Look at him,’ she said, moving the shawl away from his face. ‘Isn’t he beautiful?’
I looked at my brother’s face poking out between the folds of the shawl. He was tiny but he was perfect. His little hands were moving about like a little starfish and he was staring up at me. I gave him my finger and he held it fast. He was strong, my brother was strong and, in that moment, I knew that I would love him all my life and I would never swap him for a sister even if God changed His mind and sent one.
‘Yes, Mammy, he’s beautiful,’ I said.
‘You don’t mind that he’s a boy?’
I shook my head. ‘I wouldn’t mind if he was a bag of potatoes,’ I said, grinning.
‘I would,’ said Stevie. ‘I wouldn’t be able to play hurling with a bag of spuds.’
We all laughed.
‘What are you going to call him, Mammy?’ I said.
‘Your daddy and me thought Malachi, after my grandaddy.’
I stroked the baby’s soft little face. I thought Malachi was a fine name and very befitting for my baby brother, whom God had decided to save.
‘Hello, Malachi,’ I said. ‘Welcome to Paradise Alley.’
Nine
Malachi was growing stronger every day and I loved the bones of him. His birth was the talk of Ballybun and even though I loved him and I thanked God every day that we had him, I couldn’t help being a bit put out that here was another baby whose birth would be talked about for years to come.
Mrs Heher was much in demand, as she told everyone who had a mind to listen how her quick thinking had brought Malachi Doyle back from the brink of death. She was the hero of the day just like Daddy had been when Stevie was born. She couldn’t walk through the town without someone inviting her in for a cup of tea and a bite to eat. Her story grew more exaggerated as the weeks went on, till you got the notion that it was she who had given birth to the baby and not Mammy.
Father Kelly read her name out at Mass and when she’d walked down the centre aisle, the crowd had parted like the Red Sea. She’d sat in the front pew, sporting her one good hat with the feather. She’d had the hat for as long as I could remember. She wore it on special occasions and she loaned it out for two pennies a week. It was showing signs of wear and the green feather leaned to the left, but Mrs Heher said that she felt it gave her a jaunty air. Kitty’s mother said that in her opinion the house of God was no place to be jaunty.
I wanted a hero of the day and I didn’t mind who that might be, I just wanted a story of my own.
‘Jesus, Nora,’ said Kitty. ‘What does it matter where you
were born? It’s hardly going to affect the rest of your life, is it? Sure, no one talks about my birth either.’
‘But you know where you were born, Kitty. You were born at home, in the upstairs bedroom of your cottage. I haven’t a clue where I was born because no one will tell me.’
‘I expect you were born in the cottage that Annie lives in. Sure, where else would you have been born? If your mammy had given birth to you in the middle of Paradise Alley, I’m sure the whole town would still be talking about it.’
Kitty was right and I didn’t know why it bothered me so much but it did. Every time I mentioned it, the subject was changed and I just knew that I wasn’t imagining it. Sure, it was a simple enough question to ask, so why all the mystery?
‘I should forget about it if I was you,’ said Kitty. ‘After all, I doubt it will ruin your future prospects in life.’ Me and Kitty talked a lot about our future prospects and where we would work when we left school. We were both turning fourteen a few weeks after the summer holidays, so we had plenty of time to think about it. Kitty had a mind to work at Bretton Hall and I would have liked to have joined her, but I knew that Mammy would forbid it. My life seemed to be full of things that I didn’t understand.
‘What about the workhouse?’ asked Kitty.
I shuddered. ‘I have no mind to work there,’ I said. ‘I’d say it would be a desperate sad place to work.’
‘What about the hotel?’
‘I wish there was a bookshop in the town, I’d like to work in a bookshop. Imagine being surrounded by books all day.’
‘I couldn’t think of anything worse,’ said Kitty, making a face.
‘Oh, Kitty, I don’t know what you have against books, for they are the most wonderful things. You can lose yourself in a book and you can be transported—’
‘Grandad Doyle?’
‘The very man. You can be transported to places that you can only dream about.’
‘I’d rather visit them, Nora.’
I thought about all the books I had read. How I’d cried when Black Beauty was taken away from his mammy and forced to pull carts in London. How I’d walked beside Lorna Doone over the wild moors of Devon. How I’d laughed at Tom Sawyer and his good friend Huck, growing up beside the great Mississippi River. Little Women, where I wanted to be Jo, who loved books as much as I did. The Water-Babies, Treasure Island, Tom Brown’s Schooldays and my favourite one of all, The Secret Garden. So many books, so many wonderful stories within those pages, and while I might never go to all those places, as soon as I opened a book I was there inside my head. And I could do it all without stepping one foot outside Paradise Alley.
‘Anyway, you will have to make up your mind, Nora, or you’ll end up working in the laundry.’
‘I’m never going to work in the laundry, Kitty.’
‘Perhaps you could become a nun,’ said Kitty, grinning.
‘I don’t think I’m holy enough to be a nun and although I love God and all His saints, I have no mind to be praying for the poor departed souls, day and night.’
‘It had better be the hotel then – at least you’d see a bit of life and you never know, you might meet some rich man who will whisk you away from Ballybun and give you the life of Riley.’
‘I haven’t a clue who Riley is, have you?’
‘No, but it sounds as if he had a grand time.’
‘I’m in no rush to grow up, Kitty, and I’m in no rush to leave Ballybun.’
‘Neither am I, but I don’t fancy being married to some feller who spends his life down the pub, while I have to stay at home looking after the babies.’ Kitty grinned. ‘Of course, if it was Finn Casey, I might make an exception.’
‘That’s a grand big word you just used, Kitty,’ I said, surprised. ‘Grandad Doyle?’
‘Yes, I remembered it,’ said Kitty, grinning even wider.
‘Then I’m proud of you, Kitty Quinn, but I don’t think it will be Finn Casey you’ll be marrying. He’s too old for you.’
‘A cat can look at a king, can’t he?’ said Kitty, grinning.
‘He can, but I doubt he’d be invited into the castle.’
‘Maybe he’ll wait for me,’ said Kitty.
‘Then all I can say, Kitty Quinn, is that you’re in for a long wait. Besides, I couldn’t help noticing the way Tommy was looking at you.’
‘Really?’
I nodded.
‘Let’s go down the quay, Nora,’ she said, grabbing my arm.
I’d told Kitty about the day I’d gone to the garden thinking Malachi was dead and how Eddie had comforted me. ‘As long as we can go to the garden afterwards,’ I said.
‘You and that bloody garden,’ said Kitty, rolling her eyes.
‘You and that bloody Finn Casey,’ I said, grinning.
Finn wasn’t down the quay, so we sat on the wall for a bit to see if he might come. We sat there for what seemed like hours. ‘Let’s go to the garden,’ I said eventually. ‘I’m getting awful bored sitting here.’
‘I suppose we might as well,’ said Kitty, jumping down off the wall. ‘We’ll try again tomorrow. But let’s have a cup of tea first. I’m gasping for one.’
‘I could do with one meself,’ I said.
The bell tinkled above our heads as we opened the door of Minnie’s café.
‘Hello, girls,’ said Minnie, coming through from the back. ‘How are the two of you?’
‘We’re grand, Minnie,’ I said.
‘And how is your mammy and Malachi?’
‘They’re both grand, Minnie, and thank you for asking.’
Minnie busied herself with the tea. ‘I hear Mrs Heher is still living off the story?’
‘She is, and I’d say she’s going to live off it for a lot longer.’
‘Been to any good funerals lately, girls?’
‘Not really,’ said Kitty. ‘Funerals aren’t what they used to be.’
Minnie nodded her head in agreement. ‘I can remember when the men of the town would sit beside the coffin all night as it lay in the church and the next day, the whole town – men, women and children – would follow the coffin to the graveyard. It was all very dignified, even the paupers had a grand send-off.’
‘We’re thinking that maybe they do it better in Cork.’
‘Or Dublin,’ added Kitty.
‘I have a sister who lives there. She works in a grand bookshop. In fact, she’s the manager.’
‘Your sister works in a bookshop?’
‘She does. It’s called Finnigan’s.’
‘Well, that’s a name and a half,’ said Kitty.
‘Have you been to Dublin?’ I said.
‘I have, and it’s like another world. There’s fine big stores and carriages and cars and the houses are immense. Of course, there’s the poor quarter too, but sure, that’s to be expected. And do you know what, girls?’
‘What?’ we said, hanging on Minnie’s every word.
‘Even the poor aren’t as poor as our lot.’
‘Are they not?’ I said.
Minnie shook her head. ‘Not that I’d want to live there,’ she said. ‘Sure, you can’t move for bodies and although the River Liffey is mighty fine, nothing beats our own Blackwater.’
I nodded. ‘I agree with you, Minnie. I can’t imagine not being able to walk by the river whenever the mood took me.’
‘So, you wouldn’t want to live in Dublin then, Nora?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘I wouldn’t mind living there,’ said Kitty.
‘But wouldn’t you like to travel to places beyond Ireland, Nora?’
‘She says she does all her travelling in her books,’ said Kitty.
‘Foreign parts are of no consequence to me, Minnie.’
‘Grandad Doyle?’ said Minnie, shovelling sugar into the two cups.
‘The very man,’ I said, grinning.
‘That’s where you get your book learning from, Nora, for your grandad is a clever man.’
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‘And I thank God every day for him.’
‘I don’t thank God for my old feller,’ said Kitty, shovelling another spoon of sugar into her tea.
‘Ah, Kitty,’ said Minnie. ‘He’s more to be pitied than scolded, for he’s a martyr to the bottle, God love him.’
‘Do you know Finn Casey, Minnie?’ said Kitty, quickly changing the subject.
‘Dooney the Unfortunate’s cousin?’
‘That’s him,’ said Kitty.
‘I’ve met him – he’s been in with his uncle. Nice young man.’
‘He’s staying with his uncle up at the Hall,’ I said.
‘Mr Lamey doesn’t live at the Hall, Nora.’
‘Does he not?’
‘The Lameys have a cottage out beyond the bridge, near your Grandad Collins’s farm.’
Kitty and I grinned at each other and finished off the grand sweet tea.
‘We’d best be off, Minnie,’ said Kitty.
‘Have a grand day then, girls.’
‘We will,’ said Kitty.
* * *
‘I’m thinking we won’t be going to the garden?’ I said to Kitty once we were outside.
‘You think right,’ said Kitty, grinning.
We set off along the wood road. It was a fine day with a bright blue sky and not a cloud in sight. As we walked, we could see the bridge ahead of us spanning the Blackwater. I stopped for a moment to watch the river flowing gently by and to look across at the green fields tumbling down to the water’s edge. I would never tire of this beautiful place and I said a silent prayer of thanks that all this beauty was but a stone’s throw from Paradise Alley. I could never want for more than this.
‘Jesus, Nora, will you stop your mooning and come on. Sure, the river will always be here but Finn Casey will have packed his bags and be on the next boat back to England by the time we get there.’
‘I’m coming,’ I said, smiling at her. ‘But don’t you think it’s beautiful, Kitty?’
‘I do, but I’ve been looking at it my whole life and now I have a mind to be looking at Finn.’
‘We’ll call in to my granny’s first. If the Lameys’ house is close by, they’ll know where it is.’