Dreams Can Come True

by Vivienne Dockerty

  She found herself brushing away a tear with her emotion, asked if anyone wanted a cup of tea and quickly ran from the bedroom.

  “She’s overcome, poor little gosling,” said Mrs. Murphy, to no one in particular. “Now, we’ll get this binding off yer, shall we, and baby can have a good suck? That should bring your milk a flowing. It’ll hurt fer a minute, but the more yer do it the easier it’ll get. Now,” and she took Maggie’s breast in one hand and shoved the hungry baby onto the nipple. “That should do it.”

  It was snowing in Ballina that Christmas time. People scurried off to church for various Masses, bought food to last them for days and chose little presents for their loved ones on the stalls at the market; children made snowmen and played with their friends.

  In the back bedroom of the Heaney hotel, Maggie sat in a low chair nursing her baby. Why didn’t she love this little child she’d recently given birth to, she wondered? The tiny girl was beautiful and, now she had got into a routine of feeding and sleeping, was no trouble at all. She stared at Rosemary’s perfect little features. A button nose, a rosebud mouth, black shiny hair that was already beginning to curl, dainty little hands with fingers that curled confidently around Maggie’s and clear pink skin on her lovely face.

  Bridget had dressed the child for Maggie. She’d done it willingly every morning, as Maggie couldn’t bear to lift or bend. Is that the problem, Maggie thought. I blame the poor child for all my pain?

  “I’ve brought yer a bit of cake and a cup of tea, Maggie. Can I hold the baby while yer drink your tea?” Bridget came in, bustling with energy and eagerly and swooped to pick up the baby.

  “Oh, will yer look at her in her pretty frock. You’re so clever with your crochet hook, Maggie. Now, yer will try to come downstairs tomorrow fer your Christmas dinner, won’t yer? Frank and I are going to Midnight Mass this evening, which will give me plenty of time in the morning to cook our dinner. I’ve got a fresh chicken from Hancock’s and I went this afternoon to the market fer the vegetables, and Frank and I have bought a little something fer our Rosemary.”

  “You shouldn’t go spending your money,” Maggie said wearily. “Especially fer a baby who doesn’t know it’s Christmas Day.”

  “Well, we’ve got something fer you too.”

  “Oh, Bridget, I’ve nothing fer either of you being laid up here with the baby. But next week’s me third week and I can start getting back on my feet again.”

  “But yer can come down tomorrow, Maggie, can’t you? Just fer a couple of hours? We really want to celebrate Rosemary’s first Christmas in the family.”

  “Matron wants to see you, Staff Nurse,” said Sister Gill, as Katie was halfway through the first shift of the New Year. “Something exciting perhaps to start the year off well. Run along now; I can see to young Mr. Robertson for you. Pass me over that walking crutch before you go.”

  Katie sped along on winged feet to Matron’s office. It must be a letter from Michael. He had probably been too busy to see her over Christmas time and to make amends had sent one via the hospital. Oh, it would be worth all the heartache she’d been having, just to see his writing and read his words once again.

  “Come in, Staff Nurse Tibbs – or shall I call you Sister now? I’ve had word from the Hospital Board this morning. The examination you undertook a few weeks ago was deemed successful and that, coupled with the tenacity you have shown as Sister Gill’s assistant, has made them decide to reward you with the title of Nursing Sister. Therefore, Sister Tibbs, you will be in charge of the Women’s Ward from January 6th!”

  Dear Mother

  I am writing to let you know of the birth of George Alexander Dockerty, born on 23rd November. He is a charming little chap, doesn’t give me any trouble and has a look of me already. Little Johnny has begun to walk now and seems to be happy with his new brother. I am assuming you will have had your baby by now and hope everything went well with the birth.

  We are moving to our new house in February. Eddie wouldn’t let me go to Chester to choose our furniture – he said that I have enough to cope with, so I hope his taste in furniture is similar to mine, or there could be a few arguments!

  This is our new address, so that you can write to let us know of any decisions you have made regarding the running of the company.

  Redstone House, Mill Hill Lane, Irby, Wirral.

  Eddie is still overseeing the development, although I think it is nearly finished now, and will be, Eddie says, by the time we move out of here. Although I have to tell you that Mr. Arlington seems to have a great interest in Sheldon all of a sudden. He has been “supervising” Richard Clegg in the Loans Department and I believe that isn’t going down very well.

  Please let me know if you have any instructions.

  Your affectionate daughter,

  Hannah.

  Maggie received the letter on the day that she had arranged to accompany Fred Ellery in his pony and trap to look at the progress being made on the two new rooms of her cottage. The roof had been made good, and a new front window put in. She hoped he would be telling her when she could be settling in.

  Although Bridget and Frank were the dearest friends that a woman could ever have, Maggie was feeling frustrated. Bridget, in her innocence, was trying to take over the care of Rosemary. It was time they moved to Killala and started their lives on their own.

  “Another letter for yer, Maggie,” said Frank, who always seemed to be by the door when the postman duly arrived. “Looks like it’s from yer daughter again. Open it now and then you’ll see.”

  “I’d rather open it later,” Maggie replied. “I need to work me way up to opening this one, ‘cos it’ll be about Michael. Yer know, me son?”

  “Well, I’ll see to Rosemary while yer open it, Maggie. Best to do it now. Fred Ellery will be here soon, then yer won’t have any time.”

  Maggie opened the letter, feeling her body tense in anticipation. Something was bound to be wrong. It was as she thought; now Mr. Arlington was hanging around, Alice would be in there too.

  “Bad news, Maggie?” asked Frank, who had poured himself another cup of tea.

  “It depends on how yer look at it, Frank. I used to have a manager, his name is Mr. Arlington. I was terrified of him at times when I was building up the business. He was full of contempt for me, though he tried to hide it and we didn’t get on very well. I suppose it was because I’m a woman, and women in Mr. Arlington’s eyes should stay at home and bake the bread. I also had a running battle with me mother in law, Alice, and strangely enough they married and it was them then against me. I told yer that Michael, me son, has come back from the Army and now it seems that they’ve all got together, made life uncomfortable fer me daughter and her very capable husband. So they’ve decided to move away and start a builder’s yard, which leaves me in a mess.”

  “It seems to me that you’ll be back to where you started then, if this Arlington fellow is trying to take over your company.”

  “No, Frank, that isn’t the problem. It’s my son that will cause the problems, if he’s allowed to make decisions and oversee the men. He’s inclined to be rather arrogant, where Eddie was friendly, yer see.”

  “I suppose your daughter is hoping you’ll go over and settle it,” broke in Bridget. “Can’t yer write a letter, sort things out from here?”

  “I could do, but there will be papers to sign and I need to see Mr. Arlington. It’s time the man was put in his place – back into retirement with his nasty wife.”

  “Oh, Maggie, don’t go back to England. Don’t take Rosemary to people who won’t love her like we do. Leave her with us – yer won’t be gone too long.”

  Bridget looked so downcast that Maggie went to put her arms round her.

  “Don’t take on, Bridget, we’ll be back in the blink of an eye, you’ll see. Besides, she’s got used to taking her mother’s milk and she’s too young yet fer a bottle.”

  “What are yer going to tell Fred Ellery?” asked Frank, trying for his wife’s
sake to delay the baby’s departure. “He’ll be cross; he’s been working overtime to get your place ready so soon.”

  “He’ll get paid, he can have me word on that. In fact, if you’ll keep an eye on Rosemary for me, Bridget, I’ll go to my bank before he arrives.”

  As Maggie went up to her bedroom to put on her hat and coat, Bridget broke down and wept.

  It was the second week of February before Michael decided to confront his sister. His transfer to recruitment had proved to be as boring as he thought it would be, and time lay idling in his hands. His thoughts had turned to his mother’s fortune and how his life could be so different if some could be made to come his way.

  Hannah greeted his visit with trepidation, wishing that Eddie had not left so early and Olive had not been out with the kids.

  “Michael, can’t you see that we are in the middle of moving? Why have you only just decided to come and see me, when you’ve had all the time since you left Clatterbridge?”

  “I was waiting to see what you were up to, Hannah, and now I see it for myself; you’re leaving the sinking ship!”

  “Oh, don’t be so silly. We’re leaving because Eddie has found a builder’s yard, which means he can set up in his own business. How can you say the ship’s sinking, haven’t you seen that development over the road?”

  “Yes I have, Hannah, and I’ve also seen there are no plans on the table for the future. Doesn’t that tell you something, that Mother doesn’t care about Sheldon anymore?”

  “No it doesn’t, Michael. Mother went away for the sake of her health. She’d been ill for months and didn’t seem to be getting any better. Anyway, why would you be caring? You left it all for the Regiment.”

  “Well, I won’t always be in the Army and I’m making sure that there’s something left for me. Which brings me to the second problem, how are you going to repay my Loan company?”

  “How do you mean, your Loan company? I wasn’t aware that we owe Sheldon any money. What for? The new furniture? ‘Cos Eddie was seeing to that side of things?”

  “He seems to have forgotten to tell you, dear Hannah. Mr. Arlington has noticed an entry in Richard Clegg’s accounting book. A whopping £530! Do you think that maybe it was overdoing things?”

  “I’m sure Eddie got permission from Mother to borrow it, Michael, and the repayments will not be a problem. I still have my allowance, you know.”

  “Not for long, Hannah, if I get my way.”

  Hannah straightened up from filling a large trunk with personal effects that had been left by the door in readiness for Eddie to load into the carriage.

  “Why are you being like this with me, Michael? I don’t understand it. You were the one who left Mother to get on with it. You walked away at a time when she most needed you. It’s hardly surprising that she was grateful to us when Eddie and I stepped in.”

  “Grateful enough to let you live here rent-free and give you an allowance. Grateful enough to give a no-hoper like your pot man a top position in her company. Does he know that your little brat, your first born, belongs to Jeremy Adshead? He wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to marry you, if he’d have been in the know.”

  Hannah felt faint. The air seemed to whistle around her, then she snapped and hit her brother squarely across the face.

  “How dare you,” she snarled. “Whatever Jeremy told you, none of it is true. Little Johnny belongs to Eddie and if anyone says anything different, I’ll have them sued for defamation. Now, we can do the transfer of legalities the hard way or the easy way, Michael, but I suggest you keep your evil inferences to yourself.”

  Michael stood in the doorway, his hand across his cheek, looking in hurt amazement at his virago of a sister.

  “You always were a bully, Hannah, when we were growing up, and I seem to remember that you were the one who always won.”

  The last three days had not been good for travelling and Maggie was thankful to hail a horse-drawn cab at Woodside Ferry and ask him to take her to the village of Irby.

  “Where yer wanting to go in Irby?” asked the genial cabby, seeing a well-dressed lady carrying a baby and looking forward to the jaunt into the countryside that would reward him with a rather large fare.

  “I’m not sure where it is. My daughter’s address is Redstone House, Mill Hill Road in Irby,” Maggie replied. “Is it far?”

  “Yes, Missis, it’s over an hour away and I wouldn’t go to Irby village, neither. The easiest way is the road to Greasby and turn left at Arrowe Brook Lane.”

  “How fortunate I am to meet such a knowledgeable cab driver,” she flattered. “Could yer load my trunk on your vehicle then and perhaps we could be on our way?”

  “Certainly, Madam. There’s a blanket in there to cover you and the baby. Pass me yer bag, then I’ll help yer get in.”

  Maggie sat back inside the worn interior with its shabby leather seats and cracked wooden floor as the cabby set off up the hill and out onto the highway. She cuddled the sleeping baby to her, reflecting on her journey that had seemed to last for days. Was it only Monday morning when she had said goodbye to Frank and Bridget? To tears and condemnation, because she was taking Rosemary away. Not so much from Frank, thought Maggie, but Bridget had been like a woman possessed! You’d think that she had given birth herself and the child was her own, not Maggie’s.

  It had been lashing down on the way to Sligo and Billy McDermott’s carriage leaked; the ship was tossed on waves as high as coal heaps, and the baby had been fretful and set her nerves a-jangling. So it was good to get back on terra firma, though there was still some way to go.

  Her eyelids kept drooping as they trotted along, past a small town, the whitewashed cottages of little hamlets, then acres of fields and dark green forests. She made a concerted effort not to sleep so that the baby wouldn’t roll off her very weary knees.

  “Not far now,” the cabby shouted. “Be there in the next ten minutes, as long as we’re not held up with cows and things.”

  Maggie smiled to herself at the driver’s words. What else could hold them up in the countryside, other than a herd of cows? A flock of sheep maybe or a colony of rooks? It showed he was a townie; not used to this slower pace. She looked around in interest at the place that Hannah had chosen to live. It might be miles from anywhere, but the view to the sea was magnificent.

  Hannah looked up from the perambulator where she had just settled Georgie for his midday sleep. The air was fresh on that bright spring morning, with shoots and buds from flowers and trees brightening up the garden of Redstone House. She walked down the driveway to the tall iron gates. Whoever was visiting in the shabby hired carriage would need a hand with opening them. The driver came rushing to the visitor’s aid who was alighting, it seemed, with difficulty. The woman carried a shawl-wrapped bundle and an enormous carpet bag.

  “Mother,” shouted Hannah, the joy of seeing her loved one again making her shriek delightedly.

  “Wait, I’ll get these damned gates open, then I’ll help you in with your things.”

  The cabbie went to get the trunk, silently amazed that these two women were related. He had seen that the young one had a baby in the pram and the woman, who looked older than his wife, was carrying a baby as well! Still, it took all sorts, or whatever the saying was, he thought, as he carried the luggage to the front door step.

  “Let me look, let me look,” shouted Hannah, dancing around her stepmother, trying to take a peek at the baby wrapped up in a woollen shawl.

  “In a minute, Hannah,” Maggie replied impatiently. “ I’ll pay the driver and then yer can have a look.”

  The cabbie smiled, then away walked. He was thirty shillings richer and she hadn’t even glared at him.

  Maggie followed her stepdaughter into the hallway as Hannah rushed ahead carrying the now-whimpering baby.

  “We’ll go into the kitchen, Mother. It’s warmer there and we can make ourselves comfortable. It sounds as if she wants feeding, so you can use the sitting room if you’d rathe
r. Leave your baggage for Eddie, he’ll be in for his dinner in an hour or so. Oh, Mother, this is Jenny, our cook. This is my Mother, Jenny. She’s travelled all the way from Ireland, so I’m sure she could do with a cup of tea. Here, have Rosemary back, I know who she’s been named after, don’t I? I’ll go and get our Johnny. I wonder if he’ll remember you! He’s in the orchard with Sadie; they’ve been looking at the pretty flowers on the trees.”

  Maggie sat on a chair pulled up to the table and rocked little Rosemary, hoping that the child would go to sleep, rather than having to disappear to a different room to feed her. The elderly cook brought her a cup of tea then off she went to her cooking again. The place was cluttered with pots for washing and the smell of cabbage filled the air. Maggie felt drowsy and tremendously hungry. Her breakfast had been a slice of bread and dripping, from a tea shed on the quay.

  Suddenly there was a commotion at the scullery door as a little boy came tottering through, holding the hand of his nursemaid, a pretty young woman with carroty coloured hair and pink in the cheeks from running. Hannah followed, smiling broadly, as her son looked up at Maggie and the baby with curious eyes. He suddenly launched himself against her, making excited gobbledegook noises and jumping up and down. Maggie felt tears begin to well as she looked upon his eager little face.

  “Oh, Hannah,” she whispered. “I’ve missed yer so, especially little Johnny. Hasn’t he grown?”

  “Come, Mother,” Hannah said, also feeling overcome. “We’ll go into the other room and leave Sadie and Jenny alone.”

  “So, how was it, Mother?” asked Hannah sympathetically, as she noticed the dark smudges of tiredness and the hopeless look in Maggie’s eyes.

  “Difficult, Hannah. A woman of my age shouldn’t get into situations like I did. She’s a beautiful child, but I don’t have the energy I used to. Serves me right fer falling for Johnny’s silvery tongue.”

  “Poor Mother, I really do feel for you. I’ve been lucky with having Olive and now Sadie to help me, but I can imagine if I was older I couldn’t cope alone. Anyway, let me have a good look at her. Give her to me; let’s get her out of the shawl so I can see her hands and feet. Oh, just look at you in your pretty little frock and tiny bootees! Did you make these, Mother? Oh you must have done. I had to pass on Johnny’s clothes to Georgie this time.” She lowered her voice in case her servants could hear her. “We’ll have to talk alone later. Eddie has done something you might disapprove of, but at the time he couldn’t think of anything else to do. You’re staying, aren’t you? I can have a bed made up for you in the back bedroom and Rosemary can sleep in one of the tallboy drawers. You’ll notice we don’t have much in the way of furniture; only bits and pieces that the Kennets left behind.”