Dreams Can Come True

by Vivienne Dockerty

  “But we can make a donation in return for your kind hospitality,” Maggie hastened in. “We are a family who are not without means, though the creatures who hurt me husband stole his money belt and clothes. I am anxious, though, to continue on our journey. Our servants and the people we employ will be worried if we don’t return when we said we would. Although, perhaps I could send a letter of explanation to the man I left in charge.”

  “Yes, yes, well let us see how your husband responds over the next day or so and then we’ll have a further discussion. Do make yourself comfortable. I take it you are of the same faith as us, so you are welcome to visit our chapel and join in with our prayers. You might like the peace and quiet of our small community, though I would keep your daughter away from Bella. She might hear things that are not for her innocent ears.”

  Hannah was sitting on a bench with Bella in the vegetable garden, her “innocent ears” agog with what she had heard. At the side of the bench sat a willow cleeve, or a potato basket, that the two girls had filled with spring cabbages. Bella was on light duties and out of sight of the kitchen nuns.

  “So didn’t you want to keep your little baby? Did you see her, where is she now? What was it like giving birth?”

  “No, I didn’t want ter keep her, in answer to yer first question, Hannah. Our house is full of babies. I’m one of ten as it is and me father telled me to clear off the farm when me mother went behind me back and told him. I thought she could have passed mine off as one of hers, because it would have got lost in such a big family, but no, I got a hiding with that belt of his and I ran ter me aunt, who paid fer me to spend me time here.”

  “And what of the father of the baby? Did he want to marry you? Were you in love together, or was he spoken for and you are dying of a broken heart?”

  “Romantic piffle, Hannah. I’m not saying who the father was. Let’s just say there was no romance involved. Just a coupling, like any bitch or cow.”

  Hannah looked at Bella in horror. Was that what she had done with Jeremy? Behaved like a bitch on heat, his for the taking, happy to drop her drawers? No, she had loved Jeremy, hadn’t she?

  Especially when he had told her that they were to be married one day.

  “Oh, yer don’t have ter look at me like that, Hannah,” said Bella, her face hardening as she replied to the girl. “I could have got rid of the poor little mite and meself if I’d wanted to. There’s plenty of deadly nightshade on the hedgerows where I come from. But I thought no, I’ll give it life and make some old childless couple happy and that’s what I’ve done. She’ll be going off soon to a farmer that’s got no children and that’ll be the end to it. I’m going back ter live with me aunty and that’ll be me finished with men.”

  “You don’t mean that, Bella. One day you’ll find someone who loves you, then you can settle down and raise a family with a steadfast, caring man.”

  “Do yer think I’d go through all that again so that I can raise a stuffin’ family? You’d blow the brains out of a donkey if he was suffering that kind of pain. I thought me stomach was goin’ ter burst when I was near the end of it, but havin’ ter push it out is something I’ll remember forever. Those nuns, my God they were cruel. Prodding and poking into yer private parts, shouting at yer when yer wantin’ a rest, forcing yer ter push when you’ve no strength left ter push with. No, I’m finished with men, as I’ve said to yer and I hope what I’ve said will be a lesson ter you.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly frightened the life out of me, Bella, but I’m sure you are just exaggerating because of your circumstances. If giving birth was so awful there wouldn’t be any people left on the earth.”

  “Ah well, Hannah. That’s where the Catholic Church has got yer now. It is your duty when you marry to have as many children as possible, because every child born comes in to the family of God. You watch when yer marry. The priest will be around yearly to see if there’s another babby on the way. Oh crumbs, I can see Sister Izzy watching us. Let’s get over with the cabbages or she’ll make my life hell.”

  Maggie and Hannah stood at Jack’s bedside. The cut above his eye wasn’t so prominent now, but his jaw and left cheek had a terrible bruising. It was his eyes that frightened them both though; open and staring, occasionally blinking. But Mother Immaculata was right, Jack’s mind seemed to have withdrawn to a different place.

  “What are we going to do about him, Sister?” asked Hannah anxiously. “He can’t stay here forever; we’ve got to get him home somehow.”

  “We must pray for Himself, Ladies,” said Sister Agatha who was hovering around her patient. “Sure, we must be grateful that he’s not a cabbage. At least he’s not wet himself or soiled the linen. I’ve managed ter get him to the lavvie, with Sister Isabel’s help of course.”

  “I’m in your debt, Sister Agatha, I’m sure me husband is getting the best of nursing care. I wonder though if he could be taken out of his very dirty clothing. Perhaps you know where I could lay me hands on a clean nightshirt. I’m sure he would be more comfortable.”

  “A clean nightshirt, now where do yer think I’d get one of those from? Do yer think I could perhaps magic it from thin air?”

  “You probably don’t know this, Sister, but me husband’s clothes were stolen by those ruffians who caused me husband to be lying there. If you could think of someone locally, perhaps an inhabitant of the village or maybe a farmer who would be willing to sell me one. Perhaps the village has an haberdashery store?”

  Sister Agatha laughed at Maggie’s suggestion.

  “Where do yer think you’ve come to? This is Foxford not Dublin town. No, I’ve got an idea of something clean and comfortable. I’ll put your manny in a shroud!”

  Maggie sat with her head in her hands at the back of the convent’s dark, but peaceful chapel. Her spirits had sunk to a depth that she hadn’t felt for years. Her husband was lying in a world of his own and might never even come back to them and Hannah had committed a terrible sin that might ruin her life forever.

  “God help us,” she whispered. “Be merciful. I might not have loved Jack as much as I should, but he’s made it up to me, for his sin with Kitty. Don’t let him suffer; bring him back to us and forgive Hannah for her trespasses.” She looked about her, waiting childlike for a sign that God would promise to help her; but there was nothing. Only the sound of her breathing and a bird chirping merrily on a tree outside. Then the Angelus was rung and the nuns began to file in quietly. Maggie left them to their devotions. She didn’t stay, that would be to intrude.

  The doctor appeared the next morning, whether he had been summoned, or happened to be passing, he didn’t say. He stood by Jack’s bedside, pulling on his goatee beard while looking at the patient ponderously.

  “In my opinion, the man won’t get any better lying here, because he hasn’t been damaged physically. It’s his mind that has been affected and he needs to get out in the fresh air. People and surroundings that are familiar to him are the best medicine. Those things could make him snap out of it. Are you far from your destination, Mrs. Haines? Mother Immaculata said you live in England normally.”

  “We had intended visiting Killala, where we both were born, Doctor. Perhaps seeing the place where he comes from might bring his mind back?” As Maggie clung to this hope, she could feel her spirits begin to soar again. “Yes, we could take him back to the headland, he might benefit from all the sea air.”

  “And do you have relatives in Killala? Somewhere you could stay while your husband is recuperating?”

  “No, I’m afraid there is no one left. No one who will remember us anyway.”

  “There’s a good hotel in nearby Ballina,” piped up Sister Agatha. “My cousin runs it with her husband. I’m sure they could find yer transport to visit Killala, it’s only really a spit away.”

  “Thank you, Sister,” said Mother Immaculata. “I will write a letter immediately and you can deliver the Haineses on Thursday personally into their hands. You would be going to the market anywa
y, so you’ll be killing two birds with one stone, as they say.”

  It was hard waiting around for Thursday to come, but there was no choice but to wait for Sister Agatha’s weekly trip to the market at Ballina. Maggie contented herself with sitting by Jack’s bedside, talking to him about their life together in Neston; his horses and the race meetings he had attended and how his mother was looking forward to marrying Mr. Arlington. Now that was a strange old how do yer do. Sometimes Jack’s eyes would flicker, giving Maggie hope that he could understand, but then it was back to the vacant look, staring upwards to the ceiling as if he was finding something of interest there.

  She borrowed a needle from one of the nuns and took out the twenty gold sovereigns from her skirt hem, putting them in a secret compartment in her reticule, just in case they were set upon again. The weather was fine and sunny, so she walked along the narrow village streets with Hannah to sit together by the riverside. They kept off the subject of Hannah’s possible pregnancy. For the moment they must concentrate their thoughts on Jack, the person that was so dear to both of them.

  There was a final parting between Bella and Hannah. Bella had been pronounced fit enough to leave. Her aunt would be coming to collect her; Mother Superior had sent her a letter earlier that day. The two girls sat on their favourite bench overlooking the vegetable plot, watching another poor young woman sweating, whilst digging up the turnips for Sister Agatha to sell on her market stall. Instead of looking happy, Bella’s face was thoroughly miserable and she looked as if she had been crying, because Hannah could see the tracks of tears down her cheeks.

  “Are you not looking forward to leaving, Bella? I thought that was what you wanted. To get far away from here.”

  “Course I want ter go, silly. Who’d want ter stay in a convent unless yer were going to take yer vows? No, I was thinking back ter yesterday, when that couple came for me babby. I saw them through the window. They looked older than me mother does! He had a face on him like a busted boot and she looked like a timid mouse. I know I shouldn’t, but me heart went out to me little daughter. What kind of life will she have with him? I know, I know, a better life than she’d have with me.”

  “At least you know that she’ll be living in this area and who knows, one day you could come back this way and look for her. The convent will keep records. You might marry a rich handsome man, who will worship the ground that you walk on. Your every wish will be granted and then you could come back for your daughter and whisk her away!”

  “Oh, Hannah, you are such a romantic. Real life isn’t lived like that. Some of us haven’t been feather-bedded like you have. No, I’ll marry some smelly old farm labourer, probably a widower whose got a hoard of kids. That’s what happens to bold strumpets like I am. Widowers aren’t so particular about used goods like single men are. Ten years from now, yer won’t even recognise me. I’ll be the spit of me mother, with a big fat hanging belly, droopy tits and a rake of children as I’ll be giving birth every year. That’s if I have to. Aunty’s a kind old bat, she’ll probably let me live there for nothing. For company yer know. She’s never married. Me Mother’s put her off marriage. No, I’ll settle for leading an easy life, without a man to bow down to.”

  “I’m really going to miss you, Bella. I’ll give you my address and you can write and let me know how you get on.”

  “Fiddlesticks to writing, Hannah. I never took to it meself. Aunty can write though,” Bella said hastily, when she saw that her friend looked rather crestfallen. She put her arms round Hannah and they both gave each other a hug.

  Thursday came along at last and as usual they were woken by the sound of the bell. They had put their travelling clothes out the night before and hurriedly changed into them. The mud had been brushed off quite easily and Maggie had repaired the shoulder on Hannah’s bodice. Then they both dashed off to the lavatory where they brushed their hair and washed their faces in order to make themselves look as best as they could. Breakfast was a hurried affair with Sister Agatha anxious to be off, so she and the visitors were served, unusually, before the Mother Superior. Then they assisted an unsteady Jack down to the waiting wagon, all loaded up with the convent’s produce, but at least a pillow had been supplied to give him support.

  Jack looked a sorry figure, sprawled amongst the baskets of cabbages, turnips and potatoes, though someone had bothered to clean and repair his clothing, so that he didn’t have to travel in the ghostly shroud.

  Maggie prayed she would never see him in one again, at least not until he was ninety. The thought of Jack dying made her heart do a somersault. She hadn’t realised the strength of her love until this sorry time.

  Mother Immaculata came to see them off, smiling sweetly as Maggie handed a sovereign to her. Bella waved from an upstairs window, then the pony set off at Sister Agatha’s command.

  The wagon bumped along the narrow road that led to Ballina. Jack appeared to be sleeping, at least his eyes were closed. Maggie and Hannah spoke in hushed tones while they decided what they would do when they got there. It was rather early in the morning to expect the landlord of the hotel to let them in, even though Sister Agatha assured them that he would do. Maybe they could help the nun at the market and take it in turns to keep an eye on Jack?

  They crossed over the stone bridge at Meelik.

  “Not long now,” Sister Agatha told them. “We’ve just gone over the River Moy.”

  Maggie’s heart soared when she heard this information. The River Moy. That was the name of the river that flowed past the hamlet where she was born.

  “Look, Hannah. It’s only a narrow stream here, but further on it gets wider and wider, like the estuary at Neston does. Then the Moy meets the Atlantic Ocean at Killala Bay. Just think that is where your father and I lived. Jack, oh Jack can yer hear me, we’ve just gone over the River Moy!”

  Jack’s eyelids flickered for a moment and his body did a little shudder, then he relaxed back into sleep again. Maggie and Hannah held their breath. Perhaps he had understood something of what she’d said.

  “Along here are the Ox mountains and further on are the Oweniny hills,” Maggie explained to Hannah. “See the peat beds between the forests? That’s what we used in our cabins to make ourselves a fire. Every May, when the weather started getting warmer, me father and the other men of the hamlet would take their slanes – that’s like a thin spade – and cut hundreds of squares of peat sods nearby. Then they were stored under sacking to keep out the rain. The drier the sods got, the better the fire. It was like a day out fer them all. Oh, look, there’s some men over there working on their peat beds already. Usually we lifted ours a bit later in May.”

  “It’s going to be a lovely day,” remarked Sister Agatha. “I’m sure you’ll remember though, if we started off with a good summer, it usually rained in July. But I can tell from the formation of the clouds that it will be hot by dinner time. That means I’ll have this lot sold much quicker. Not many people like to venture out when it rains.”

  “Is it always your job to come to market, Sister Agatha?” asked Hannah. “You seem such a busy person, working in the infirmary, dashing off to prayers and looking after the women in the Baby House as well.”

  “As they say, Satan finds things fer idle hands to do, Hannah,” the nun replied, chuckling. “But there’s not many of us at the convent and plenty of work to go round. No, it’s usually me and I’m glad of it, though sometimes another sister will accompany me if she can be spared. Oh, look, we’re nearing Ballina already, I can see the ruined castle in the distance. Look over there on the hill.”

  Chapter 8

  Jack felt as if he was floating… Yes, that was what he was doing… floating along on a slow moving tide. The tide was taking him nearer… To what, his mind kept asking? Was he travelling through a mist or had a fog come eerily down? He could hear voices; gentle, caring voices, concerned voices, voices of loved ones, but who he didn’t know. Now they had gone, there was nothing; just a silence, but he felt warm and comfor
table; drowsy. Happy to be lying there in a world without a sound.

  “So, what are yer plans now?” asked Sister Agatha, as she stopped the wagon outside the Heaney Hotel. “Will yer be staying fer one night, two? Bridget, me sister, will have to know.”

  “Probably two nights, Sister. Then we’ll have to make arrangements to get over to Sligo. We’ll sail back to England from there. It’ll be easier than travelling back to Dublin overland.”

  “Just wait with the wagon then for a moment while I nip in the back door. They’ll be in the kitchen having breakfast. I can ask Bridget’s husband, Francis, to come and help us with Jack.”

  The nun scurried off and a little later came back with a big mountain of a man who introduced himself as Frank.

  “Cead Mile Failte,” he said. “ Welcome to our humble hotel. I take it yer’ll be wantin’ a double and a single. Well, that’s all we have anyway, so I hope they’ll suit.”

  “Yes, thank you, it’s very kind of yer to take us. You will have noticed by now that me husband isn’t very well, but he’ll be no problem. We’ll take care of him between ourselves.”

  “Sister Aggie here has told us a little; poor man has got me sympathy. But this is a quiet law abiding town, where they’ll be no trouble. Not anymore anyway, not since 1798.”