Chapter 6
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,
Yet ’twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, ’twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning,
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.
Edward Mordaunt Spencer, 1846 approx.
“And what am I supposed to be doing with this now?” Tom held out the silver pocket watch on the palm of his hand.
Daniel gaped at the beauty of it. “Won’t anyone buy it from yous?”
“I can hardly stand on the corner shouting to any gentleman who passes, and we’ve no dealings with the Roach Guard no more. I’d wear it if I weren’t likely to have meself caught as a result.” Tom swaggered a pace or two, twirling the chain, causing Daniel and Molly to laugh despite everything.
“No one’ll buy the rags I’m finding either.” Molly slumped down in the doorway. It had been hard to find one which wasn’t already filled with sleeping tenants. By night it had become their shelter.
They soon learned the peril of staying too long in the morning, when, on the second day, a boot landed firmly in Daniel’s ribs, kicking him down the steps into the street. It meant four days of no singing, and their already meagre resources were stretched to breaking point.
“Can’t you turn your hand to stealing food for us instead?” Molly looked seriously at her brother.
“That’s not so easy as picking pockets. There’s always somebody watching. I gets us a little when I can.” He grinned as he thrust a small chunk of bread towards them and they broke it hungrily.
“I’ll try to sing tomorrow,” Daniel said, wincing as he reached forward. “If we don’t get more to eat soon, I’ll not be singing again.”
The following day, Tom and Molly sat close by as Daniel held his arms around his pummelled body, his voice quavering when breathing too deeply sent a ripple of pain through his ribs. Molly was quick to collect any coins that were thrown, before they could be lost to the gutter or kicked by a passing shoe. That night they ate like lords, compared to the four nights of no food, and it brought them more joy than a banquet could have brought to a king.
Over the next days, although they could ill afford to, and their stomachs growled in consequence, they kept just a little money back, saving for tools so Tom could shine shoes. They’d decided that would be a better option then selling newspapers; as Tom had put it: “I don’t trust words I can’t read and understand.”
For his singing, Daniel always found a corner where he could sit with the still-crusted scar on his face turned away. No one wanted to throw coins to an angel who’d been in a street fight, even if it had been to defend Molly.
“Shoe shine.” Tom grinned and bowed as Molly and Daniel applauded when he was ready to go out in search of custom. He polished what remained of his own boots until they as near shone as possible. Daniel hoped that no one would judge Tom by the holes in the uppers, or the places the stitching had given up completely.
“I’ll try tomorrow, once I’ve got enough money for some black,” said Daniel, eager to be part of the new venture. He’d rather do that than sing about a land and a time that now seemed so far away.
Tom wasn’t sure yet where he’d pitch himself. They knew from Daniel’s singing where crowds of people could be found, but had little idea if they were the right places for shining shoes.
Once Tom had gone, Molly went with Daniel to find a pitch for singing. She had nothing else to do and besides, Daniel was glad of her company.
Tom had worked long hours to earn the money he brought back. He was in a vile mood from being polite, however rude his customers were. Daniel wanted to ask him for every detail, but thought better of it.
It was early the next morning when Daniel set off in search of polish and his own pitch. He reckoned he’d do best around where the men of business worked so he found himself a spot ready in the hope of trade.
“Shoe shine,” he shouted as men passed. He’d been there about twenty minutes and already had his first customer. He sang softly to himself as he worked, earning a small tip on top of the charge. There was a lull in activity in the street so no point in shouting; instead he sat quietly, humming a tune with his eyes closed.
It was the punch to his face that brought him back to the world. “What you doing on my pitch?” The child facing him was no taller than he was, but seemed to be twice as wide. Before Daniel could gather himself, another punch landed him in the gutter and he put his hand to his misshapen and bleeding nose. As soon as he was able, he pulled himself up, grabbed his shoe black and cloth and, holding the cloth to his bleeding nose, he ran.
He had no idea where the others would be now. They hadn’t expected to meet up until much later in the day and the steps they slept on would be in use. He thought of going to check in case they were there, but his head was spinning and he needed to rest first. He found a nearby well and waited for someone to draw water before asking if he might have a little to wash some of the blood away. Then he sank down to the ground in despair. There’d be no singing in public for him for a while and without it, he couldn’t see how they could survive. Tom had at least found a pitch that no one else was using, but he guessed the reason for that was because the pickings were so poor. They could barely all eat on what Tom was earning.
It was early afternoon when he found the others and was delighted to be back with Molly so she could tend his wounds.
“We’ll have you sorted in no time.” Molly’s hands were gentle as she wiped away the worst of the remaining blood.
Her cheerful optimism made Daniel smile, despite knowing it wasn’t going to be as simple as that.
“At least you’ve still got the shoe black, so you have. Although the cloth’s not looking so good, Daniel Flynn.” She held up the blood-covered shoe rag accusingly, but she was grinning as she spoke. “Now,” she said, “how much money do we have?”
Daniel looked at Tom, but as a curious frown spread across his face, the pain of his wounds stopped him short. “Ow.”
“Now you stay still there, or I can’t be cleaning you up. I said, how much money do we have?”
Looking straight ahead, Daniel reached into his pocket and withdrew his coins. Tom did the same.
“Right,” said Molly. “I want no arguments from either of you. Tommy will have dinner as he needs to work tomorrow. You and me, we’ll share a small crust to stop the pangs being too bad, but the rest ye’ll give to me.”
Daniel knew better than to ask what Molly was planning. He trusted her completely and he knew she’d have a reason. He also thought the money was probably safer with Molly than anywhere else. Tom sullenly nodded his agreement and handed his coins to Molly, who dropped them with Daniel’s into her apron.
“You’ll do,” she said to Daniel, taking the rag away. “I’m going to be gone for some time. While I’m away I’ll try to find you a better rag for the shoes.” She looked at Tom, one eyebrow raised, as though challenging them to ask where she was going, but Tom only grunted.
It was several hours before she came back, and as she approached she broke into a wide smile. “Now will you look at yourself? Those eyes are already the colour of the shoeblack and with that scar to go with it you look quite the little ruffian.”
Daniel could feel the swelling of his face and wondered how bad it looked. He wasn’t going to be welcome in polite company any time soon, but as he had no other company than Tom and Molly, that wasn’t so much of a problem.
Molly was carrying a small ragged bundle, from which she withdrew a cloth for Tom. She curtsied as she presented him with it and then mischievously said, “Or should that have been a bow?”
Again, Tom didn’t respond. Daniel was confused and was none the wiser as Molly took a dirty old cap and breeches out of the bundle.
“They’re hardly less worn than my dress and apron, but they’ll serve the purpose.” She changed out of her dress and into the breeches, then pushed her hair up inside the cap so that she looked f
or all the world like the boys. “Will I do?”
“And what should we call you, mister?” asked Daniel, realising she was meaning to look like a boy.
“Ah, now there’s a good question. What do you think, Tom?”
“I guess ‘Michael’ would do it,” Tom said, and Daniel was glad to see him almost break into a smile before punching his sister on the arm as though she were a boy.
“Hey, now don’t you be hurting my poor arms. I’m going to be needing those for what I’m doing.”
“And what would that be?” Tom asked.
“Never you mind. You’ll find out soon enough.”
It was before dawn next morning when Molly thrust her blanket at Daniel and whispered, “Look after this for me. I’ll see yous later.” Then she put Mammy’s rosary around her neck inside her shirt, made sure it was hidden, twisted her hair up inside the cap so it was completely covered and walked away down the street.
Daniel’s nose was still throbbing and he could sleep no more. He spent the morning sitting waiting and wondering what Molly was doing, while Tom went off to black shoes. He was hungry, but with no food left from the night before and no money, there was little he could do. With a broken nose and two black eyes he couldn’t even sing for his breakfast, and he kept his head down to avoid attracting yet more trouble. He levered a piece of bark off a nearby tree and chewed it in an attempt to convince his body it was getting food.
When Molly returned she looked triumphant. Tom had come back some while earlier, more dispirited than the day before.
“Oh, boys, you’re never going to be believing all I’ve got to tell you.”
“Then there’s no point telling us.” Tom laid out the coins he’d collected, barely enough to cover bread for the three of them.
“Now don’t you be worrying about that, Thomas Reilly. I’ve money for all three of us, but better than that…”
Daniel looked in wonder at her radiant face, eager to hear what was obviously important news. Even Tom looked up from his slouched and defeated attitude.
“… I’ve got us somewhere to sleep for the night and we’ve enough to get a small amount of food on the way.”
“Molly, what have you done?” Tom looked thunderous.
“Don’t you be assuming I’ve done anything wrong now, Tommy. You know that I wouldn’t do anything the good Lord and Mammy wouldn’t agree to.”
“Apart from the thieving,” Tom spat back at her.
Molly stood, hands on hips. “I didn’t tell you before so you wouldn’t say a girl shouldn’t be doing this. I know you want to protect me, but as it turns out I’m pretty fair at doing that for meself.”
Molly’s mood was so infectious that Tom began to relent.
“So what have you been doing?” Daniel wanted to hear how this fine girl had managed so much when he and Tom had failed her.
“I’ve been selling newspapers, don’t you know? Your brother Michael turned out to be quite good at it and sold every one he started with. He even went back and got some more to sell and when he sold those he got even more. Anyways, there’s a hall with beds and I’ve made enough for all of us to sleep there and enough to buy a few papers to start tomorrow. But you have to call me Michael and we’re all three brothers.” She looked seriously first at Tom and then at Daniel.
In turn, they nodded.
“We’re to go a little later. Oh, Tommy, what do you think? Maybe you could sell papers. And when your face ain’t that ugly, so can you sell them too, Daniel.”
“It’s got to be better than this.” Tom threw his blackened rag to the ground and held up his hands, the colour of shoe polish.
“I’m not so sure about that.” Molly held up her newsprint-covered hands and grinned. “I think it might be much the same.” She reached as though to an apron and then corrected herself and drew her money out of the breeches pocket. “We’ve not had so much since you were thieving, don’t you know?”
Daniel couldn’t help but wonder how the people at the lodgings were going to react when they saw his black eyes and scarred face. Short of covering them with shoeblack, there was nothing he could do to disguise them and besides, the swelling would still risk giving him away. He just had to hope that they wouldn’t turn him away. The thought of being off the streets, even for one night, was a luxury. Sure, the temperatures were still warm enough, but he got little sleep for fear of being kicked from the steps again and was constantly alert to the noises of the world around them. He longed for a night and a day without fear of someone doing him more harm.
It was with trepidation that Daniel followed the others to Fulton Street. It was not far from where they were and took little time.
“But it’s the newspaper’s office,” said Tom, looking up at the building that housed The Sun.
Molly smiled. “That it is, but there’s a floor above with real beds.” The pride in her voice almost made Daniel forget how frightened he was.
They followed Molly, or Michael as they would call her, up a narrow staircase on the left. Molly turned to them before they reached the top. “Oh and we’ll be getting some learning while we’re here as well.” Then she turned around and continued up the flights.
Daniel wanted to pinch himself. A bed and a chance to learn something. He’d never dared to hope such a thing could happen. He remembered back to the little village school in Ireland, which seemed more of a dream than ever having been a reality.
They came to a door with lettering that Daniel found hard to make out. He remembered what some of them were, but he’d done no letters for a long time and not a great deal before that. Molly knocked, while the others waited behind her. The door was opened by a kindly gentleman.
“Excuse me, sir, I was told there might be a bed for me brothers and me.” Molly used her best speaking voice and held out a shaking hand with the eighteen cents that would be needed for payment.
“Your name?”
“Michael, sir. Michael Reilly. And these are me brothers, Thomas and Daniel.”
The boys were beckoned into the room and Daniel hoped the gloom might lessen any response to his injuries, but the man started slightly when he saw him and when he spoke again his tone was a little changed, with suspicion creeping in.
“We don’t allow fighting and brawling in this establishment. If you get into any trouble you’ll be asked to leave.”
“Oh no, sir.” Molly spoke quickly. “We’d never do anything like that. It wasn’t Daniel’s fault. He was attacked, sir, so he was.”
The man nodded. “And what of your parents?”
It was Tom who spoke up this time, a slightly belligerent edge to his voice. “We’ve got no parents. It’s just the three of us… sir.”
“There’s no need to take a tone with me, young man. Many of the children here are orphaned too. We do what we can. Now this gentleman will show you to your bunks and the location of the wash room.” A stouter gentleman had joined them as they were talking. “And then, when you’ve got yourself cleaned up, you can come back through here to find yourselves a desk.” He pointed to a hall laid out in neat rows.
They followed as requested, all the time with Daniel saying nothing but praying quietly that he’d be allowed to stay.
“Will you look at this?” Molly was prodding the straw mattress of the bed, after the gentleman had left them to get cleaned up before studying.
“Now don’t you go getting too used to that, Mo… Michael.” Tom grinned, having set aside all his earlier hesitation. “We’ll not be affording this every night.”
But as Tom sat on the edge of the bed it wasn’t hard for Daniel to see he wished he could.
“Come along, boys.” The stout gentleman was calling them through to the school room.
Daniel could feel the stares of some of the other boys and tried his best to stand tall, even though he wanted to hide.
“Now what would you be looking at?” Molly said defiantly to a boy much bigger than she was.
Daniel almost laugh
ed as the boy, as rough from the streets as any he’d seen, promptly backed down. Molly followed it up by introducing them all. “Michael Reilly and these are me brothers, Daniel and Tom.”
Somehow her bold approach disarmed all around her and Daniel had no difficulty understanding how she’d done so well selling papers that morning. No one would suspect that Michael was a girl.
It was a long time since Daniel had sat down to any learning and, as he was shown once again how to form his letters, they felt almost as alien as they had at his first trying back in Ireland. He was amazed as he looked across at Tom to see the eager concentration on his face and the look of real enthusiasm as he made steady progress. His efforts were held up by the Superintendent and Tom beamed with genuine pride. The letters were quite new to Molly. She’d been too young for any schooling before she left Ireland and she appeared even more lost than Daniel was feeling.
It was later that Daniel had a chance to shine, when the lessons in writing came to an end and a music lesson began. As the music teacher began to sing a song that Daniel knew, he felt the tiredness drain away and before long couldn’t resist joining in. Despite his broken nose, the song was haunting, and before long he was singing a solo. Even without his eyes open Daniel knew from the silence of the room that both adults and boys were enraptured. Afterwards, it was as though no one could see his black eyes and scarred cheek; he was accepted into this place and thanked God for the fortune He’d shown them that day.
Molly went out to sell papers again the next morning and was gone before Daniel woke up. Tom left to shine shoes and Daniel went out in search of some place to spend the day. It was no fun wandering around on his own and his face only brought unwelcome attention. In the end he sat down by the wharf, looking out over the river and thinking about what life might be like across the water. He searched his memory for thoughts of Uncle Patrick and his fiddle, images frozen in time. He hoped the family in Ireland had fared better than those who’d travelled, but it was unlikely. He shook himself to stop the maudlin thoughts taking hold and instead turned his mind to thinking of a second night with a bed and the pluck of Molly to get them all there. His ma would have said she was a bonnie lass, but she was much more than that. She’d got pluck in a way he’d never known in a girl before, not that he’d known that many, apart from his sister. He stopped, aware once again that his thoughts were travelling back to the old times and knowing they were images he couldn’t afford to dwell on. He tried to sing, not for anyone else but for himself, for comfort and to pass the time, but the pain of his face was too great and he fell silent again.
New York Orphan (Tales of Flynn and Reilly Book 1) Page 6