by Sandy Taylor
Mammy kissed Malachi and he reached out his arms to be picked up. His little face crumpled as he watched her walk away from him.
It was a sad journey and Malachi’s sobbing matched my own as we made our way out of town towards the farm. Granny and Grandad were waiting for us as we turned into the yard. I got out of the car and ran up to her, while Grandad lifted Malachi into his arms.
‘Oh, Granny,’ I sobbed, ‘Stevie has the scarlet fever and he’s desperate sick.’
‘I know, my love,’ she said, holding me tightly. ‘I know.’
‘He’s gone to the fever hospital in Cork and Mammy is staying with him.’
My grandma nodded. ‘And they will make him better, Nora.’
This was what I wanted to hear. ‘Of course they will,’ I said.
But what if they didn’t? What if God decided that He needed Stevie more than we did? Well, He better not, I thought, because if He does, I shall never speak to Him again and I won’t light any candles to Him, or the blessed Virgin Mary and I won’t sing in the bloody choir. Oh, Stevie, please don’t die!
* * *
A week later, me and Kitty were sitting on the flat rocks at the beach eating sandwiches.
‘What’s it like living at the farm?’ said Kitty.
‘It’s not so bad, but I miss my family and I worry about Stevie.’
‘Have you heard anything?’
‘Not a peep, but Granny Collins says that’s a good sign, for if it was bad news we’d soon be told.’
‘Are we singing in the choir on Sunday?’ asked Kitty. ‘I told Father Kelly we would.’
‘I’m waiting to see if Stevie gets better before I commit to it, Kitty.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t use such big words, Nora. There are times when I think that your Grandad Doyle does you no favours at all.’
‘You might be right, Kitty, but I have a fierce desire to learn new words. And I wish you hadn’t said I’d sing in the choir without asking me first.’
‘I know you do, Nora, and your words are grand, it’s just that I don’t know what the bloody hell you’re talking about half the time. And as for the choir, when else will we get to wear a red costume with a grand white ruffle around the neck? We’d be eejits to turn down the opportunity.’
‘I’ll bear all that in mind, Kitty.’
‘I’d be glad of it, Nora.’
We sat in silence for a few moments, but neither of us could ever keep that up. ‘How is Finn?’ I said, to change the subject.
‘Sure, he’ll be gone soon and I’ll be desperate sad. What about Eddie?’
‘I haven’t seen him, Kitty, because I promised Mammy I’d help my granny look after Malachi. He’ll be wondering why I haven’t gone to the garden.’
‘He’ll trust there must be something stopping you.’
‘I’m not so sure, because when he told me that he wasn’t a Catholic he could see that I was shocked. He might think I don’t want to be his friend anymore.’
‘Eddie’s not a Catholic?’ said Kitty, looking as shocked as I’d been at the news.
I shook my head.
‘Is he a heathen, then?’
‘He didn’t say, but then I don’t know what a heathen looks like.’
‘Neither do I,’ said Kitty. ‘But I hope he’s not planning on going to Heaven when he dies, because he’s going to be sorely disappointed. As a good Catholic yourself, it might be your duty to convert him to the true faith.’
‘Well, if God in His wisdom decides to take Stevie to live with him, I’ve a good mind to become a bloody heathen meself.’
‘Nora Doyle!’ said Kitty. ‘You’d better get yourself down to confession mighty quick, before God in His holy wisdom decides to take the pair of you.’
‘Perhaps I’ll sing in the choir on Sunday, that should keep Him happy.’
‘Good idea,’ said Kitty, linking her arm through mine.
Fourteen
I had very little freedom living at the farm – I was used to roaming the hills and lanes with Kitty. But I was well taken care of and loved. Granny Collins was a great cook, and she seemed to have made it her mission to send me home fatter than when I’d arrived. And I did all I could to help take care of Malachi, just like I promised Mammy. I took him to look at the pigs and the cows but he was getting to be such a lump of a child, my arms were only hanging off me from carrying him. He seemed happy enough. Daddy visited as often as he could and Malachi was delighted to see him but I think he missed his mammy. Well, he missed his mammy’s titty and had to drink the milk from the cows. He didn’t like it at first and yelled fit to bust but once he cottoned on to the fact that it was the only drink on the menu, he reluctantly gave in.
‘It’s a shame for your mother though,’ said my granny. ‘For she loved feeding him herself.’
‘Did Mammy feed me?’ I said.
Granny suddenly got very busy, bustling about the place and managing to ignore what I’d just asked her.
‘Granny?’ I said again. ‘Did Mammy feed me?’
Granny looked at me and made a sort of tutting sound. ‘What sort of silly question is that, Nora?’ she said. ‘Now go and see if there are any eggs to be gathered.’
I stomped out into the yard and decided that I had definitely been adopted and wondered who my real parents might be.
One Saturday morning, I was so bored that I took a walk over the hill to see if Finn Casey was at home. Any company was better than none. I rested at the top and looked down at the Lameys’ cottage – there was no one in the yard and I considered going back home, but just then Finn walked around from the side of the house. I ran the rest of the way down the hill and into the yard.
Finn walked towards me. ‘It’s Nora, isn’t it?’ he said, smiling.
I nodded.
‘Where’s your little friend?’
He made it sound as if Kitty was a child. ‘She’s not so little,’ I said. ‘And neither am I. We’ll both be out working soon.’
‘Sorry,’ he said, grinning.
‘That’s alright,’ I said, softening.
We didn’t say anything for a while and I was beginning to feel awkward and wondered why it had been such a good idea to visit a boy I barely knew. He seemed to be at a loss for what to say to me too, perhaps for the same reason.
‘Do you want to see the new horse?’ he said suddenly.
‘Yes, please,’ I said.
We walked around the back of the cottage to the field and there, standing as still as you like, was the prettiest horse I had ever seen.
‘Isn’t she lovely?’ said Finn.
I nodded.
‘Hey, girl,’ called Finn.
The horse walked towards us and rested her head on the fence. She was pale brown, with a white flash down her nose.
‘She’s very beautiful,’ I said, stroking her soft coat.
‘My uncle is going to teach me to ride her. Can you ride, Nora?’
‘I’ve been riding since I was four years old,’ I said, with more than a hint of pride.
‘And what a lovely place to learn. It must be great to live somewhere like this all your life.’
‘It’s all I’ve ever known, and I couldn’t ever think of living anywhere else.’
‘I live in London,’ said Finn, picking up some grass and feeding it to the horse. ‘I shall miss this place when I go back.’
‘When are you going?’
‘In a week’s time. I have to get ready for university.’ I didn’t know anyone who went to a university and I was mightily impressed. ‘I’m going to have to study hard if I’m to become a doctor.’
The horse pushed her nose into my shoulder and I patted her. ‘That’s a fine thing to be, Finn,’ I said.
He smiled. ‘Thank you, Nora. I think so too. That’s why I’ve enjoyed being here so much – my last summer of freedom.’
‘Well, you couldn’t be in a better place,’ I said.
‘Are you hungry? Because I was just going inside for a
bit of lunch.’
I thought it was funny, the way the English called their dinner, lunch.
‘I am a bit,’ I said.
‘Wait for me here and I’ll get us something to eat,’ he said, smiling.
I watched him walking towards the house. It was funny – I hardly knew this boy and yet I felt comfortable with him. I wondered what Kitty would say if she saw me now. Perhaps I’d keep it to myself, for I had the feeling that she wouldn’t be over the moon about it.
Finn came back, carrying a plate. I followed him over to a tall, shady tree and we both sat down on the grass. ‘It’s just ham sandwiches,’ he said. ‘I hope that’s okay?’
‘That’s grand,’ I said, taking one and looking across at the mare. ‘What’s her name?’
‘She doesn’t have one yet. My uncle said that I could name her.’
‘She needs a name as beautiful as she is.’
‘What would you call her, Nora?’
I looked across at the horse. She was standing very still, watching us. The sun shining on her back had turned the brown of her coat to a pale orange; it reminded me of the last rose of summer that Eddie had picked for me.
‘I’d call her Rosie,’ I said.
Finn nodded. ‘Good name.’
I stood up and walked across to the fence. I rested my face against her soft head and she nuzzled into me. ‘Would you like to be called Rosie?’ I whispered. Suddenly she threw her head back and whinnied. It sounded for all the world as if she was laughing. I turned around and smiled at Finn. ‘She likes her name.’
‘Rosie it is then,’ said Finn, smiling at me. ‘Rosie it is.’
* * *
A few weeks later, Father Kelly came up to the farm to tell us that Stevie had turned a corner and would soon be well enough to come home.
‘Is he going to be alright?’ I said.
‘He will need to take it easy for a while, but yes, I’m assured that he is going to be alright, Nora.’
‘Does that mean that I can go home?’ I said.
Father Kelly laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll come and let you know when they are back. I’d say that you are missed in Paradise Alley and they will all be delighted to see you and Malachi home again.’
That last week of the summer, I walked across the hill to the Lameys’ cottage almost every day. Sometimes, I’d find nobody home, but on other days, Finn would be reading in the garden or tending to Rosie. He’d be welcoming and kind, and would answer my questions about London or university, and ask me about horses and books I read. I knew that he would soon be leaving and that I would probably never see him again but that was alright, it was the way it was meant to be. I kept our meetings to myself, I didn’t tell anyone, especially not Kitty. If I’d told Kitty, she would want to join us, of course she would, and I didn’t want to share our time with anyone else. It seemed I was getting very good at sinning by omission.
I taught Finn to ride Rosie. Every time he fell off the horse, I made him get back on again. We laughed a lot; I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed like that. Every day I got to know him better, I felt like I’d found a friend and I think that Finn felt the same. He told me about his dream of becoming a doctor and how worried he was that he wasn’t clever enough.
One day we were sitting on the top of the hill eating sandwiches that Mrs Lamey had given us. Finn started talking about his family. He told me about his parents and his younger brother David, who he adored.
‘David is special,’ he said. ‘He’s not like other boys his age. He will never be a doctor, or a scientist, or a teacher, he will always remain a child.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’ I said.
‘It’s called mongolism. He has a certain look about him but he has a smile that would light up the darkest of days.’
‘I think I know what you mean,’ I said. ‘I think that maybe there are boys like that at the asylum, up at the workhouse.’
‘That’s where my cousin is,’ said Finn.
I had forgotten for a minute that Dooney was Finn’s cousin.
‘My mother was afraid that it might run in the family, so my parents decided not to have any more children.’
‘That’s sad,’ I said.
‘It is,’ said Finn. ‘Because I know she would love to have had a daughter. That’s why it’s so important that I do well – I feel like that would somehow make things up to them.’
‘But wouldn’t they be proud of you whatever you did?’
‘Yes, of course they would.’
‘Well, as long as you are doing it because you want to and not because your parents want you to.’
‘I’ve thought of that too but no, I really do want to be a doctor.’ He smiled at me. ‘What’s your dream, Nora?’
‘Mine?’ I said, laughing.
‘Yes, yours, everyone should have a dream.’
‘It costs money to have that sort of dream, Finn.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘What do you have to be sorry about?’ I said.
‘Sometimes I don’t think things through.’
‘There is one thing I’d like to do, though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’d like to work in a bookshop and be surrounded by books all day. That’s my dream.’
‘And a fine one it is,’ he said, smiling.
We sat in the sunshine and looked down on the cottage and the rolling hills behind.
‘I’ll miss this place,’ he said.
‘What made you come to Ballybun?’ I said.
‘My father was born in Ireland; my aunt is his sister. He left when he was seventeen, to make his fortune, he said.’
‘And did he?’
‘I guess he did. He worked his way through school to become a lawyer. My father is a very determined man.’
‘What about your mother?’
‘They met at college; they were on the same course but my mother gave it all up when she had me. I think she would have gone back to it but then she had David and that changed everything.’
‘Could you do me a favour, Finn?’ I said.
‘Of course.’
‘Before you go back to England, will you go down to the quay?’
‘Why would you want me to do that?’
‘Because my friend Kitty likes you,’ I said, grinning.
Finn laughed. ‘What’s that got to do with going down to the quay?’
‘She goes down there every day with her friend, Aoife Coyne, hoping to see you.’
Finn stared at me, then his face started to go red.
‘Well? Will you do it? Will you go down the quay?’
‘Well, I was planning to meet the Nolan brothers for a last swim anyway, so I suppose I’ll be there.’
‘Would you mind passing the time of day with her?’
He sighed. ‘Well, if it’s that important to you, I’ll be happy to say hello to her.’
‘Thank you.’
Finn stood up and I scrambled to my feet beside him. He was a good head taller than me and I felt like a child as I looked up at him. The sun was in my eyes and Finn’s blond hair seemed to shine like gold. And there at the top of the hill, Finn reached down and gently kissed my cheek.
‘Goodbye, Nora Doyle.’
‘Goodbye, Finn Casey.’
Fifteen
It was lovely to be back home. Stevie was still pale and weak but as the days went by, he became more like his old self. When the weather was warm, Mammy would put a chair outside the kitchen window and cover his knees with a blanket. I tried not to think of what our lives would have been like without him.
‘What was it like up in the hospital, Stevie?’ I said one day, as we walked slowly round the yard.
‘It was scary at first, but everyone was kind. I just wanted to come home, Nora. There were days when I thought that I’d never see any of you again. There were days when I thought I’d never see Paradise Alley again.’
‘I felt a bit like that at Granny and Grandad
’s.’
‘There was a window on the ward that looked down on the city and once I was feeling better, me and Connor used to stand there and watch the people coming and going. Cork is a desperate busy place, Nora, with everyone rushing about, it made me miss home even more and Connor felt the same. Neither of us had any desire to walk its streets.’
‘Who’s Connor?’
‘He was the lad in the next bed, I think I would have gone mad if it hadn’t been for Connor.’
‘I’m glad you had a friend, Stevie. Will you see him again?’
Stevie shook his head. ‘He never made it, Nora, he never got to go home.’
I stopped walking and put my arm around his shoulder. ‘I’m terrible sorry about that, love, I’m terrible sorry that you lost your friend.’
‘He died during the night and I didn’t even wake up. I wished I’d been awake, I could have sat beside him, so that he knew he wasn’t alone.’
‘I’m sure he knows that, Stevie, and sure, he’s in the arms of the angels now and I bet he’s having a great old time.’
Stevie didn’t answer me. I took his hand and we walked across the field and sat down under a tree.
‘Is there something wrong, Stevie?’ I said gently.
Stevie leaned back against the tree and frowned. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be strong like you, Nora.’
‘Of course you will. You’ve been ill and it will take time for you to get better, you just have to be patient.’
Stevie shook his head. ‘Even before I got sick, I wasn’t able to do the things that you do. I wasn’t able to help Daddy around the place because I tired too quickly. I don’t think I’m the son that Daddy would have chosen.’
I could feel hot tears stinging behind my eyes. I hated to think that my little brother felt like this. ‘Oh, Stevie,’ I said. ‘You’re wrong. Daddy loves the bones of you and he wouldn’t change you for the world.’
‘I just want to make him proud.’
‘But you do, my love, you make him proud every day. You make all of us proud.’
Stevie sighed. ‘Do you know what, Nora?’
‘What?’
‘I don’t think that I will ever leave this place. I don’t think that I will ever travel beyond this town.’