by Anne Bennett
Biddy, however, had taken an instant dislike to Hilda and told her firmly that her help was no longer required, not that she intended to fill this gap herself. She did nothing but carp and complain and find fault with everything and everybody. Often Stan found it hard to believe that this objectionable woman was the mother of the lovely Nuala.
So though he wanted to complain about this, he knew his authority, as far as the children were concerned, was of no account, and so he said nothing. He had an appointment with the landlord that morning to tell the man of his changed circumstances. As soon as the children left with Biddy he would be returning to his own little house.
Stan was in the bedroom getting ready when Kevin sidled in. ‘Can I come with you, Granddad?’ he asked. ‘I’ll be good. I’ll wait in the corridor for you. Please don’t leave me behind.’
Stan looked at the child’s white and frightened face and wished he could take him, but he knew for his own sake he had to get used to Biddy and so he said, ‘No, it’s better if you stop here. I’ll likely not be long.’
‘Please, Granddad?’
The expression on Kevin’s face tore at Stan’s heart, but he knew he wouldn’t be part of the child’s world for much longer and so he bent to his level and said, ‘Kevin, you know what I explained to you the day of the funeral? Maybe you should try to get to know Biddy. I know the woman is not easy, but it would likely help you if you could get along together.’
‘I don’t like her, Granddad and I’m scared of her too.’
‘I know that, Kevin,’ Stan said sadly. ‘All I’m saying is perhaps you need to try a little harder and maybe she will be better if I am not around.’
Stan didn’t believe that for a minute and neither did Kevin, but there was no help for it. Once his grandfather had left, Kevin wanted to hide away in the bedroom, but Biddy found him there, hauled him out and set him to cleaning the family’s shoes.
For some time the only sound in the house was Biddy’s nagging voice. Kevin envied Molly escaping it when she went out with a list to do the shopping.
Molly was finding the day long and arduous, and not the work alone, but coping with all the complaints, however hard she tried.
By the time she carried the shopping back she was feeling weary, for she had already stripped the sheets off the beds, remade them and left the soiled linen in the boiler while she washed, rinsed, mangled and hung out the rest of the washing. Then she was sent out to do the shopping and knew after that she would have to tackle all the sheets and clean the house, for Biddy did nothing.
Biddy noticed how jaded Molly looked as she hauled the heavy bags into the house and was pleased. She would soon show the child who was the boss in this house.
‘This is a rest cure compared with what you will be doing when I get you to my place,’ Biddy told her. ‘There, as well as housework, you will be expected to help on the farm. Your mother was never expected to do any of this and look where that got me. The Devil makes work for idle hands, people say, so you will not be allowed to be idle at any time, let me tell you. I have learned the error of my ways and you will not go the way of your mother.’
Molly was incensed by the disparaging way that Biddy spoke of the mother she had loved with a passion. She faced her grandmother and said, ‘I would be pleased and proud to be like my mother. Don’t you dare say bad things about her! She was a lovely person and much nicer and kinder than you.’
The slap across Molly’s cheek was so hefty she was nearly lifted from her feet. She made no sound, though her hand flew to her cheek where she knew a large bruise would shortly form, and running her tongue around her mouth she knew her bottom lip was split. Yet she refused to show fear and she looked at her grandmother in defiance with her head held high.
‘By God, girl when I get you home I will knock that spirit out of you,’ Biddy almost snarled. ‘I have a bamboo cane that I used to chastise the boys and you will feel the sting of it a time or two, I’m thinking.’
Molly saw Kevin looking at her, his eyes alive with panic and his fear so great his teeth began to chatter. She knew that for his sake, as well as her own, she had to stand up to this woman and so, though her insides crawled with apprehension, she cried, ‘I don’t care a jot for you or your stupid cane. We will get along well enough if you stop saying bad things about my mother for there aren’t any bad things that you can say. She was wonderful and so was my father, and you can bully me all you like, but you will never be able to make me say anything different.’
‘I’ll put manners on you, miss, if it is the last thing I do.’
‘There is nothing wrong with my manners,’ Molly contradicted. ‘It is you who is being rude, not me.’
Biddy, furious at being spoken to in such a way, and because Molly was displaying no fear of her, administered a punch of such ferocity that it caused Molly to sink to her knees. She couldn’t prevent a cry escaping from her nor the tears spurting from her eyes. Her whole face throbbed and she knew that her nose was pouring blood. She had the acrid taste of it in her mouth.
Kevin had given a scream at the punch and thrown himself against Molly. He remembered her saying she would protect him against his grandmother and realised suddenly the woman was stronger than both of them and the only weapon they had was to stick together. And so, despite his intense fear, he glared up at Biddy and yelled, ‘Leave her alone you. Molly is right. You are nothing but a big bully.’
Biddy’s face was red and contorted with temper as she said with disdain. ‘And you are an insolent young pup who will get some of the same before he is much older.’
Molly put her arms around Kevin and said, ‘Don’t you dare lay a finger on him.’
‘And who is to stop me?’ Biddy asked. ‘You?’
‘I’m telling my granddad about you,’ Kevin cried.
‘Go ahead,’ Biddy said. ‘But remember that there will be no granddad in Ireland.’
And of course that was true. They would have no one to fight their battles for them there and both children were well aware of it.
So when Biddy said, ‘And now, if that little tantrum is over I suggest you get that shopping put away and cook some lunch, for my stomach thinks my throat is cut,’ Molly got to her feet, stanching the flow of blood from her nose with a handkerchief, because there was nothing else she could do.
They had scrambled eggs on toast because it was what Biddy wanted and Kevin looked at it with distaste. He had never liked his eggs scrambled and when he began to move them around his plate with his fork, Biddy snapped, ‘Eat it!’
Kevin was filled with trepidation as he mumbled that he didn’t like scrambled eggs.
‘Don’t mumble like that. Speak up!’
Kevin shot a look at his sister and she spoke for him, her voice sounding strange with her thick lips, ‘Kevin isn’t that keen on scrambled eggs.’
‘What is this, “not keen” about?’ Biddy snapped. ‘From what I have seen since I have been here, he is not keen on a lot of things, for he eats nothing. I’ll not stand such nonsense,’ she said, glaring at Kevin. ‘It’s good food. Eat it, or I will make you eat it.’
Kevin looked at his plate and just the look of the eggs made him feel sick. ‘I can’t.’
‘Oh, yes you can,’ Biddy said, leaping from her chair. She pinned Kevin’s arms down, holding his nose at one and the same time while she pushed a huge forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth when he opened it to breathe.
Kevin kicked and struggled and cried, and Molly was pulling at her grandmother and shouting at her to leave Kevin alone, but it made no difference and Kevin was forced to swallow the egg. The minute he did, this was followed by another forkful and then another.
Suddenly, Kevin felt the nausea rising in his throat but he couldn’t speak for another forkful of egg was in his mouth and he tried manfully to swallow. However, he couldn’t, and he began to cough and choke and splutter, and then suddenly vomited with ferocity over the table, the floor and his grandmother.
‘You bold wee boy,’ she shrieked and, scooping him up from his chair, she laid him across her knee.
Stan came in then and took in the scene at a glance. The hateful woman paddling Kevin’s bottom with her large hands and Molly trying to prevent her. It didn’t need a genius to work out what had happened to Molly’s face either. Stan felt unaccustomed rage build inside him as he yanked Kevin out of Biddy’s grasp.
‘You have no right!’ she said angrily. ‘The children are my responsibility and I was chastising the child.’
‘Like you chastised Molly?’ Stan said with scorn. ‘Look at the state of that poor girl’s face. Come here, Mol.’
Molly crossed to her granddad’s side and he put his arm around her shoulder. Glaring at Biddy he said, ‘There is to be no more of this chastising as you call it. Personally, I call it beating a child and that will not happen while they are under my roof. The children have already suffered enough and you are not to lay one hand on them.’
But Kevin, his arms around his grandfather’s neck, still shaking and giving gulping little sobs, knew that it would only be a brief respite and his bleak eyes met Molly’s and he knew that she was well aware of this too.
The next day, Kevin stuck like glue to his grandfather and the old man knowing of his fear never left him alone with Biddy and they kept out of the house as much as possible. He could do nothing about Molly for again she was kept hard at it. She told him she didn’t want to go out anyway because she would be embarrassed with her face the way it was. The marks of Biddy’s handiwork were clearly visible, though the woman seemed not a bit ashamed of what she had done. Molly, however, wanted as few people to catch sight of her as possible and so she had risen early and gone to the half-past seven Mass. It was never well attended, that Sunday was no exception, and she had kept her head bowed throughout most of the service. She fervently hoped that the marks would be gone by the morning because she wanted to return to school. She badly needed to get away from her grandmother.
Despite his grandfather never leaving him alone with Biddy on Sunday, Kevin was in an almost permanent state of anxiety. He had another horrific nightmare that night that raised the house. The next morning, Stan looked at his grandson’s thin and wan face and rheumy eyes, ‘Kevin, you stay home from school today. You look far from well and I would like the doctor to take a look at you.’
‘Kevin cannot stay at home today,’ Biddy said. ‘You forget that I am in charge now of the children and I will not tolerate laggards. There is nothing wrong with the child at all. He is seeking attention that is all, because you have utterly ruined him. As for the screaming and all last night, that was probably the reaction to something he ate.’ Molly knew that wasn’t it, because Kevin was eating practically nothing. In fact, she realised with a jolt, it had been some time since he had eaten anything properly. He had had no breakfast that morning either. She decided to tackle him about eating more when they were on their way to school and away from their grandmother hearing any of it.
FOUR
‘How d’you feel, Kev?’ Molly said as they made their way to school later that morning. ‘Granddad’s right, you know. You don’t look at all well.’
‘I’m all right,’ Kevin said. ‘And I would be better if that horrible old woman would go back to Ireland. But she won’t and so I would rather go to school than stay at home. Anyroad, I like school.’
Molly knew he did. He was in the baby class, the Reception and had loved every minute of it since the day he had started. ‘You might feel better too if you ate something,’ she said. ‘You must try. Not because of what that old bat will say and do, but because you will be ill if you don’t.’
‘I can’t eat, Molly,’ Kevin said. ‘I do try, honest. It’s just like I feel sort of full all the time.’
Molly knew what her young brother was full of: misery and despair. She suffered these emotions herself. In fact sometimes, the enormity of the tragedy, and the uncertain and fear-filled future dangled before her, were almost overwhelming. She took Kevin’s hand, gave it a squeeze and said, ‘I know how you feel, Kev, honest I do, but you’ve got to eat or you will be really sick. Do your best, eh, for my sake?’
Kevin nodded. ‘I will, Molly,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll try really hard.’
* * *
Not long after the children had left for school Biddy donned her coat and went out. Stan didn’t ask where because he didn’t care and, despite his concerns about Kevin’s health, in one way, he was glad he was at school and away from his grandmother.
Biddy was making for the Social Services for she wanted to get the plans for taking the children away to go as speedily as possible. The authorities were delighted that there was a grandmother willing to take on the care of the orphaned Maguire children.
However, it couldn’t be done as speedily as Biddy would have liked as, even with the backing of the Church, there were certain formalities to attend to and the first thing was that the children would have to be seen by a social worker. Biddy was annoyed at the delay, but there was nothing to be done about it and she sent a telegram to Tom, telling him that the business was taking longer than she thought.
At least, she thought, as she made her way home, it will give me time to lick those children into shape and put some manners on them before I take them back to Ireland.
The next day, Kevin collapsed in the playground at playtime. A doctor was summoned and he arranged to have him admitted to the General Hospital.
‘But why?’ Stan asked the secretary who had come with the message.
She knew nothing further, though. ‘That’s all I was told, that he was being sent to the hospital.’
‘I suppose no one has thought to inform his sister in the Seniors?’
‘I should hardly think so, but that can be rectified if you think …’
‘No,’ Stan said. ‘Leave it as it is until I find out what is wrong with the child.’
‘I will come with you of course,’ Biddy said as Stan closed the door.
‘You’ll go nowhere with me,’ Stan thundered. ‘You are probably at the root of any problems Kevin has.’
‘You have no right. The welfare of the children is now my concern.’
‘Not yet it isn’t,’ Stan snapped. ‘And until it is official, I will decide what is best for them, and that, woman, is that.’
He swung his jacket from the hook behind the door as he spoke, jammed his cap determinedly on his head and was through the door and away before Biddy had time to draw breath.
She could have followed him, demand she go too. After all Stan had no right to stop her walking down the street, but she wasn’t ready to go out yet. She hadn’t even changed from her slippers and she decided to let the old fool go to the hospital on his own and find out that the child was just playing up, swinging the lead no doubt, to get more attention. By God when she got him to Ireland, he would soon find out what sort of attention he would get if he tried that caper.
The doctor summoned to talk to Stan a little later didn’t think it was any sort of caper at all. Scrawny, undersized children were a common enough sight in most cities in those days, but Kevin wasn’t just skinny, he was gaunt.
By the time Stan reached the hospital, the boy had regained consciousness and the doctor looked coldly at the old man coming to enquire about him. Most of the malnourished children he had treated had equally malnourished parents, but he noted that though the man before him was not fat, he looked robust and pretty healthy, and so he said quite scathingly, ‘This child is just skin and bone, and this state of affairs has been going on for some time. You must have been aware of it.’
Stan nodded miserably. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said. ‘Kevin hasn’t eaten properly for days and to treat him properly, you need to know it all.’ He told the doctor of the tragedy that had befallen Kevin and his sister, and the arrival of Biddy, which had made Kevin worse.
The doctor nodded. He had known from the beginning that it wasn’t malnutrition alone that dogged Kevin, but so
mething deeper. ‘That explains a great deal,’ he told Stan.
‘Biddy intends to take the two children back to Ireland with her when all the formalities are completed,’ Stan said. ‘And the thought of that, and without me around to protect him from the woman’s viciousness, is terrifying Kevin.’
‘Can you not fight this?’ the doctor asked. ‘As his grandfather you have rights too, surely?’
Stan shook his head. ‘Normally, I would fight tooth and nail, because I don’t mind telling you that when those children go, it will tear the heart from me, but I have come up against the brick wall of the Church.’
And then, at the doctor’s quizzical look, he went on, ‘Nuala, my daughter-in-law was a Catholic and my son wasn’t, but both children were being brought up as Catholics. Now, with Nuala gone, their Irish grandmother is afraid they will backslide – or that is what she claims, anyway. And she has got the full support of the parish priest for her to take on the care of the children she seems to care not a fig about.’
The doctor knew all about the power of religion, and the Catholic Church in particular, but still he said, ‘I am less concerned by your grandson’s immortal soul and more about his physical and mental well-being, and for the moment at any rate I want him in hospital. And even after this,’ he assured Stan, ‘I would block any moves to try to remove the child from your care, if I thought it was detrimental to him.’
‘I appreciate that, Doctor,’ Stan said.
‘And now I suppose you would like to see the child,’ the doctor said. ‘He has come round, but still seems a little bewildered. Maybe you can reassure him that we mean him no harm.’
‘I’ll do that, and welcome.’