by Anne Doughty
Sadly, neither could she see any way forward. It felt as if the joy of being home again was completely spoilt for him by having no work in prospect. When she asked him if he missed the company of the other men in the group, some of whom lived nearby, he shook his head. ‘Sure what wou’d I want with them now I have you?’
*
November came and went, the weather unusually mild for the time of year. It was at the beginning of December that Hannah arrived home late one morning to find Patrick drinking tea with Jonathan Hancock.
‘Hannah, how good to see you,’ he said, jumping to his feet. ‘Your good man has been telling me about his work in Scotland and how things are here in the valley. I’ve got some news for you and I think now I’ve met Patrick I may actually have even more good news than I thought!’
‘Sit down, love, you’ve likely been on your feet all morning,’ said Patrick gently. ‘There’s still tea in the pot.’ He got to his feet and fetched a clean mug from the dresser. ‘Do you want me to make us all a piece while you have a sit?’
‘I’d rather hear the news first with my tea, unless you are both very hungry,’ she said happily, looking from one to the other.
They both insisted that there was no hurry at all for a bite of lunch so she settled gratefully in Patrick’s chair by the fire, amazed and pleased at how easy the two men appeared to be with each other.
‘Well, to begin with,’ Jonathan began, with a small smile, ‘the Dublin Education Committee have approved a salary for you, Hannah, dating from when you first began back in the summer. The secretary said I was to apologise to you most sincerely. He says he missed the September Meeting through illness and that’s why there has been such a long delay. I took the liberty of asking him for a postal order that I could cash myself to save you the trouble of going down to Dunfanaghy,’ he added, handing over a small bag of coins. ‘I hope that was all right.’
‘Oh, Jonathan, how thoughtful,’ she said, delighted by the welcome sound of sovereigns that might make Patrick feel easier. ‘That is very good news, Jonathan,’ she said quickly. ‘Patrick has been upset that there’s no work to find, but this more than makes up for it, doesn’t it, my love?’
‘Well, it does take away a worry,’ he said, nodding vigorously, ‘but I’d still like to turn m’ hand to something. I’m not used to bein’ idle.’
‘As it happens, Patrick, there is actually a job going, and I can’t think of a better person to tackle it,’ said Jonathan, looking pleased with himself. ‘I’ve been given quite a lot of money for meal and flour, to bridge the gap till the new crop is ready, but I need someone to buy it locally and distribute it along the whole length of this valley. It would mean buying a cart, albeit a small one, and a robust donkey to pull it. There are funds for that, of course. Might you be interested, Patrick?’
Hannah watched Patrick’s face light up as Jonathan explained exactly what was needed, finding those in need, repacking bulk bags into manageable sacks and delivering on a regular basis.
‘Jonathan, may I ask where the money has come from?’ Hannah asked, not bothering to conceal her delight.
‘A certain young man whom I’m sure you both know started with crayons and moved on to watercolour. Hannah gave me a packet of work when last I came,’ he explained to Patrick. ‘I hoped I could use his paintings as “gifts” to contacts I have both here and in Armagh and then ask for a donation. I’ve managed to place three of them and have received £250!’
Patrick shook his head in disbelief and Hannah clapped her hands together in delight.
‘I hope you’ll both help me work out an appropriate small fee for Johnny,’ Jonathan went on, ‘and a larger payment, enough to keep his family going till the first of the boats is ready. I’m afraid there’s been a delay there, but I’ve no doubt at all it will get funding when some Friends can visit Dunfanaghy and find out for themselves just how important it might be.’
‘An’ why’s that? If I’m not asking out of turn?’ Patrick asked hesitantly.
‘No, not a bit of it,’ replied Jonathan. ‘There is no need to keep plans secret; it’s just that we don’t want people being disappointed. I didn’t realise how few Quakers there are in Ireland, outside Dublin. Apparently there are only 4,000 and some areas have none. So if there isn’t a local Meeting, plans have to go to the nearest one, or up the line to the Yearly Meeting, or the Relief Committee. At the moment funds are flowing in, but the problem is getting proper information about where it’s most needed and then getting it out to people who can be trusted to make it go as far as possible.
‘Which reminds me,’ added Jonathan, smiling, ‘speaking of getting things to where they are needed, I wonder if you might be able to find where best to buy a donkey, Patrick. The cart, I hear, is probably easy enough. A turf cart will certainly do, but I’ve no idea where one might find a donkey.’
Patrick smiled. ‘I hafta admit, I know the very place,’ he said. ‘There’s a field in Tullygobegley full o’ them. I useta to look down on them when I was up on the roof o’ th’ house I worked on this time last year. ’An I saw yer man come out regular an’ go roun’ them, feedin’ them carrots from a satchel and callin’ them, each by name. I heerd he sells twice a year at some of the big markets nearby an’ makes a good living from it.’
‘My goodness, that is great news. I wish it were always as good,’ said Jonathan, as Hannah, her tiredness forgotten, stood up to see if they still had butter for the bread she’d baked the previous day.
She’d forgotten that Patrick had been up to visit his Aunt Mary, so there was both butter and milk, and blackberry jam as well, pots and pots of it, her share of the rich harvest when she and John took the whole school out one sunny afternoon to visit all the well-known bramble patches.
That was when Sam had distinguished himself by filling his bowls faster than even Johnny Donnelly or any of the older pupils.
Chapter 16
The arrival of Neddy, the name chosen by Sam, who insisted that all the donkeys in books were called Neddy, was much celebrated in the McGinley cottage in Ardtur.
Patrick took on the new task agreed with Jonathan with enthusiasm, not only delivering the flour and meal provided by money donated to the Quaker charities, but keeping his eyes open and talking to those he met, finding out if they knew any others in need. And there were many.
By November, families had already used up their diminished potato crop and so had none available to sell to help them pay the half-yearly rent, now due in late December. Quite a few of them, reluctant to admit their difficulties, had sold all their winter clothes and household tools so they could buy enough food to tide them over till the new crop was ready in late May or June.
Patrick quickly learnt to watch for children playing outside cottages, ill-clothed even for the unusual mildness of the winter weather, and then to make further tactful enquiries.
It had taken him only a couple of days to do a deal on the donkey from Tullygobegley and to find, in a nearby market, a good, robust cart built for pulling heavy loads of turf from the bog.
‘Sure, isn’t everythin’ easy if ye’ve money in yer pocket,’ he said, unsmiling, when he arrived back home, late and tired, driving instead of walking.
It was only some days later, as Hannah waved him goodbye when he set off for Dunfanaghy to collect flour, brought in by boat from Derry, that she realised she too had received a gift with the arrival of the donkey and cart. Another day, Patrick might well be picking up supplies in Ramelton and if it were a day when she was not teaching, she could visit her friends, the Rosses, whom she’d seen only seldom since the arrival of Rose and Sam.
Catriona Ross was a good deal older than Hannah, but she’d been brought up in Dundrennan and knew Hannah’s father and mother and her older sisters, when they were still at school. She’d never revisited Scotland after her marriage to Joseph, the grandson of some distant cousins, who had come to Donegal, bought a small hotel and never went back. Catriona enjoyed sharing her m
emories of the fathers and mothers of children Hannah had been to school with, or even the grandparents of the children Hannah herself had taught when she became a monitor.
As for Rose and Sam, the good-natured little donkey was their greatest friend. Patrick reckoned he was the best-groomed donkey in Donegal and Hannah agreed with him. She said she never had to be concerned as to where they were and what was keeping them for so long, when they disappeared ‘to look after Neddy’.
Now that Patrick was helping with the household tasks and John well settled in his teaching duties, she had more time to herself. She was able not only to keep up with her sewing, but also to write letters to her father and sisters, as well as making her regular reports to Jonathan Hancock.
Jonathan always replied promptly, sharing his news from Armagh, telling her a little about other Quaker projects in which he knew she would be interested, as well as forwarding both ideas and donations. It seemed to her, looking back at the shy and uneasy man who had arrived at her door in April, that something had changed in his life. He was certainly increasingly happy and confident in the work he was doing.
He did say in one of his letters that he’d made a number of useful contacts in and around Armagh and one or two friendships as well, on his visits to Castledillon. He’d then given her a vivid description of Sir George’s newly built, thirty-one-room mansion, overlooking a small lake, hidden in all directions from the roads to Portadown and Loughgall and set in gardens that were still being laid out.
He made her smile when he told her how Sir George appeared to live in fear of his housekeeper and how he sometimes just abandoned the disorder of the house, where workmen were still wheeling away barrows of rubble. Apparently, when the gardeners then started arriving with barrow-loads of topsoil and the housekeeper was heard to issue threats about spilt soil and dirty feet, he was seen disappearing at speed to hide in a summer house, already complete, down by the side of the lake.
Jonathan had been quite delighted by how quickly Patrick had managed to acquire the donkey and cart. He now requested him to treat the whole valley as his responsibility until the springtime when, hopefully, the new potato crop would not be affected and other Quaker projects for improving the food supply would come into effect.
Meantime, the winter months of early 1846 proceeded with unaccustomed mildness. Sophie announced regularly that, ‘Sure, there’s been no cold.’
When Hannah began to hear the same comment made frequently, particularly by older people, she found herself wondering if she detected a note of anxiety in their voices. She’d thought that the older people would welcome the savings in turf, at a time when cold weather always created the danger of the turf stacks running low, or even, in a really severe winter, of running out.
She herself was grateful for the mildness, which always made life easier. Her only sadness was the way in which the weeks seemed to pass so quickly. While one part of her rejoiced in the early signs of spring, another part was already aware that once the early potato crop was planted in April, the next event would be Patrick’s departure for Scotland.
*
Meantime, the school flourished and all fifteen children now on the roll attended more often than before. As Patrick pointed out, it meant fewer mouths to feed at home if the parents knew there would be bread and jam provided when the children had not had breakfast before they left, and there would be a proper piece at lunchtime. Daniel was delighted with the extra provision. Now that his pension had been restored and small donations were arriving regularly for the school from American emigrants to whom the children had written, he was only too willing to ‘forget’ about the pennies due on a Friday. The misfortune of the crop failure had given an opportunity for education to fifteen young people who would now be better equipped for the future than most young people in the rest of the county.
Johnny Donnelly continued to produce both pen sketches and watercolours, and John McCreedy continued to mount them, now on high quality card, newly arrived from Dublin. Hannah cleared a drawer in the dresser so that she knew they would be safe till Jonathan’s next visit. There was now a new baby in Johnny’s family, but although, thanks to Johnny’s pictures, they did have enough to eat, Hannah still wished that the Quaker fishing boats would materialise. She knew only work would satisfy Dermot’s frustration, in the way Patrick’s had been resolved with the arrival of Neddy and the turf cart and his responsibility for seeing that no one in the valley was short of food.
By now, the deep winter months had passed and on a soft, early spring day Hannah was able to go to Ramelton with Patrick and visit her friend Catriona while he collected supplies of meal and flour. She took a couple of napkins with her, knowing well that Catriona’s hands were never idle when they talked. It was when she settled herself by a welcoming log fire in Catriona’s sitting room, she remembered what Jonathan had said about the useable but slightly flawed fabric that he could provide, both from the Hancock mills and from others nearby, if only Hannah could find an appropriate use and outlet for it.
Hannah had indeed given the possibilities much thought, but she’d had to confess that none of the women she knew in and around Ardtur had either the time, or the skill, to make clothing. That seemed the only appropriate thing to make with what she knew was relatively heavy fabric. As they sat down together Hannah saw Catriona take up an Aran sweater she was knitting.
‘Lovely pattern, Catriona. Is it for one of the boys?’
Hannah listened hard as Catriona brought her up to date on not just the recipient of the Aran sweater in Peterborough, Ontario, but all the rest of the family, in both Canada, Boston and Edinburgh. It was perfectly clear from all she said that, exactly as Hannah thought, Catriona had indeed no need of extra income by knitting, sewing, or anything else. Her husband, Joseph, had been a successful hotel keeper and trader all his working life and now, having reassured herself that all was well with them in their retirement, Hannah considered how she might ask for her friend’s help.
‘Have you had any distress in the town, Catriona? The shops seem to be all right, but there must be people with no work.’
‘Oh, indeed aye,’ she replied, her Scots accent still obvious even after a lifetime in Donegal. ‘The hotel has had to let staff go and the gentry are makin’ do with less in the way of servants. The Presbyterian kirk we go to in Dunfanaghy, is doin’ all it can to help folk, but we’re a vairy small number an’ we can hardly go beyond our own members.
‘Joseph is their treasurer,’ she went on, her needles still flying, though she was looking straight at Hannah, as she always did. ‘An’ sure there’s very few can fill the Freewill envelopes. Some families haven’t even a penny to put on the plate. To tell ye the truth, the men who collect the offerin’ these days just offer the plate at the end of the row and don’t look down till it comes back t’ their han’. An’ between ye and me, as they say, I know Joseph puts a few pence on himself forby his weekly envelope so no one knows who hasn’t got even a penny t’ give, never mine an offerin’ in an envelope. Sure ye know well enough they print the figures of the giving at the end of the year in the Year Book, but our man has had to ask the Elders to set that aside this year, so as to avoid embarrassment.’
‘Oh dear, that must be very hard on some,’ Hannah replied, knowing how meticulous both Catriona and Joseph were with the small square envelopes that bore a printed reminder about filling up the envelopes for the missed Sundays should they ever be unable to attend.
‘Doesn’t your minister’s stipend get paid from the envelopes?’ Hannah asked, an idea half forming in her mind.
‘Ach, yes. In theory he does. The collection money goes to the Presbytery but everybody knows that’s mostly what the Presbytery uses to pay the ministers. But if they haven’t got enough coming in, I don’t know what they’ll do. There’s no use my asking Joseph. Sure, he’s the treasurer, but he’s very secretive about kirk affairs, though I suppose you could say that’s only proper when it’s kirk business.’
Hannah told her then about the offer of fabric and asked her if she knew anyone who could make use of it. She explained that the workers would get paid for their work on the free fabric, just as she did for her napkins, but that the clothes made would then be sold very cheaply to those who had a little money and some given away without charge to those who were in need in the local area.
Catriona put her knitting down, asked question after question and then beamed at her. ‘Have ye ever heard of the PWC, Hannah?’ she asked slowly.
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Hannah admitted, shaking her head.
‘Well, it’s a group of Presbyterian women. Every church has one, and they try to raise funds for various charities. I’m a member of ours, of course. And what you’re saying sounds as if it’s the answer to our prayers. We’re committed to working for those in need but, to be honest, most of the women can’t afford to knit, or sew, or bake cakes these days. That fabric would be a godsend. Where did you say it was coming from?’
The women were still talking and outlining both people and possibilities when Patrick arrived with Neddy and a heavily loaded cart. Catriona hurried out ahead of Hannah, greeted him warmly and told him the ‘good news’.
Hannah could see that Patrick was both amused and delighted at Catriona’s enthusiasm. He beamed at her.
‘There ye are, Neddy. There’s another job for you and me,’ he said, turning and stroking Neddy’s ears. ‘Mind you, Catriona, you’ll be kept busy, for there’s women up our way have “neither in them, nor on them”, as the sayin’ is. What decent skirt they might have had, they’ve sold for food and sure if we have any cold weather they’ll be foundered in the rags they’ve left.’
‘Well, we’ll not let that happen, Patrick, not if we can get a hold of that fabric Hannah was talking about.’
‘Oh, ye’ll get it all right,’ Patrick assured her. ‘Yer man is as good as his word. I can see me maybe havin’ to go to Derry to collect it, but sure we can manage that if we hafta. Right now, I must take this lady here away, for we’ll have to walk a brave bit of the way. Neddy here has a heavy load an’ there’s a good few steep bits where we’ll have to give him a han’.’