‘What will we do?’ wondered Eily, out loud.
Peggy was already dozing and did not hear her. Michael’s eyes were beginning to close too when he mumbled, ‘Why don’t we walk at night instead and in the early morning when it’s cooler?’
It made such sense, Eily could have kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. That’s what they would do.
The countryside took on a different shape in the dark. Luckily there was no cloud in the sky and the moon shone down brightly on them. Although weak and exhausted, they seemed to be able to walk for a longer distance without having to stop for a rest. There was lots of scampering and scurrying in the hedgerows as they passed and Peggy edged nearer to Eily and Michael, fearful that some strange creature would jump out and attack her. There were many different sights and sounds all around them. They jumped every time they heard the screech of the night owl getting ready to hunt and the almost silent beat of its wings as it swooped and caught its prey. It was a time for the hunters and they would blink in surprise when the children came upon them, and move into the shadows.
One time they saw a large grey badger shuffling along, and the three of them held their breath not wishing to disturb him. About two miles further on they came upon a vixen and her cubs playing outside their den, nipping and chasing each other. The children moved on silently.
By the following night they had lost all sight of the sea and were near the base of the mountain. At least they were heading in the right direction, and if they could only manage to keep going they would be in Castletaggart in a few days and maybe they would find some relation who would look after them and take them in?
The next day was oppressive. There was a constant rasping dryness in their mouths and throats, and they could hardly get a breath of air. Nothing stirred all around them. Even the birds had stopped their twittering and singing. It was strange. The only activity the children could see was the odd butterfly lazily hovering over a bunch of wild flowers. That night they had just started to get ready to move when they became aware of a low rumble in the distance. Terrified, they stayed where they were, pulling the blankets around them.
CHAPTER 12
The Thunderstorm
THE RUMBLING GREW AND GREW, getting nearer and nearer. A streak of light would flash across the orange and grey sky, then the sky itself would thunder and roar. They had never seen such a bad thunderstorm. The lightning flashes got longer and wider, stretching even from the top of the mountain down to the fields below.
The children were terrified. Was it the end of the world? They prayed out loud to be spared.
Peggy was whimpering like a young puppy and had burrowed herself in between the other two, with her head hidden well under the shawl and the blankets. Eily was trying to stop herself shaking and was making a great effort to control her own fears.
The whole sky lit up every few minutes as the sheets of lightning flared all around them. The thunder was deafening. It was as if the huge clouds were banging into each other and fighting. Never in all their young lives had they seen or heard anything like it. Sometimes it would stop for a few minutes but then – Crash! – with a rumble it would all be back and start up again.
After a while, Michael relaxed a bit and began to make jokes about two huge giants fighting and trying to kill each other, up in a land above the clouds.
‘You take that,’ he’d shout when the thunder rolled. ‘I’ll strike you with my sword,’ when the lightning flashed.
On and on went the fighting for hours on end, and even Peggy, the odd time, would add on a bit to the story, but she would not stick her head out to have a look at what was going on.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, the thunder and noise seemed to ease off and stop, though they could hear it in the distance.
Eily felt a droplet of rain on her nose, then another, and all at once the heavens opened. The rain came in torrents, beating down on them, and within a few seconds they were absolutely drenched. The water fell with such force that it stung them. It was almost like being attacked by a swarm of insects. They fought to catch their breath. They opened their mouths, gulping the droplets down. The hard earth and dust underfoot softened and gradually became muddy.
Every living thing, although battered, seemed to stretch to absorb the much needed wet and moisture. Life was being renewed. The brooks and streams and rivers would fill again and flow through the countryside.
Michael threw off the blanket and danced around with pure joy in the early morning light, splattering himself with mud which the rain sluiced off him. The water cans filled up quickly.
Within a few hours the rain had stopped, the sun was up and bright, but without the harshness and glare of the previous few days. Now they could walk by day again.
CHAPTER 13
Peggy’s Fever
EILY COULD NOT UNDERSTAND IT. The past two days had been perfect – they had had their fill to drink, a portion of grain each to chew. She had found a clump of large plump strawberries and also some tiny little hazelnuts. But Peggy was constantly cranky and whingeing and lagging behind. Michael and Eily took it in turns to catch her by her good arm and pull her along. She kept wanting to sit and rest. She was hungry and thin and exhausted, but so were they all.
Once or twice in frustration Eily had given her a wallop on the bottom, now knowing how Mother must have felt when they had been bold. However, Peggy would invariably break into tears and sit down. Eily tried to keep calm and remember all the good things about Peggy. Michael constantly teased her, which was his way of dealing with the annoyance. They had passed the side of the mountain, and when they had got across country for another bit more they would find themselves on the road to Castletaggart – nearly at the end of their journey. Eily was letting herself drift into a dream where they were re-united with Mother and Father and had gone back to the old cottage and all the neighbours were there to greet them and …
‘Eily! Eily! Quick, it’s Peggy!’ shouted Michael.
She jerked out of her dream and ran back through the coarse grass.
‘What’s wrong with that child now?’ she muttered angrily. ‘I suppose she’s sitting down for another little rest …’ She stopped her sharp words. Peggy was lying on the ground, her eyes shut and her breathing coming too quickly. They both stood over her.
‘Peggy! Peggy!’
Peggy did not move or stir.
‘Oh my God, what is it?’ cried Eily, kneeling down. She touched Peggy’s forehead. It was burning. The skin on her shoulders and legs and everywhere was hot to touch. She was burning up with a fever.
Michael ran on ahead to search for somewhere that would give a bit of shelter. A large hawthorn tree stood in the middle of the long coarse grass. Near the side of the field, about two yards from it, grew a few bushy shrubs. It was well hidden and protected. Michael came back up to Eily. They could not rouse Peggy. They laid a blanket on the ground and gently rolled her on to it, and then between the two of them they half-dragged and half-lifted it under the tree.
Peggy did not seem to be aware of what was going on around her. Eily settled her and placed the other blanket over her. A huge wave of guilt washed over Eily. She should have noticed that Peggy was sickening for something. She was meant to be the oldest and wisest – ‘the little Mother’!
‘Do you think she has the fever, Eily?’ asked Michael. ‘Or is it something after the dog biting her arm?’
Eily shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Michael, but whatever it is she’s burning up and very sick. It must have been coming on for the past few days.’
Then she remembered Mary Kate’s medicine and got the jar and mixed some of the powder with water. She raised Peggy a bit and managed to pour some of it into her mouth. Peggy spluttered as it went down her throat, and then seemed to sink back into a long deep sleep.
‘Will we light a fire?’ questioned Michael, trying to think of something to help the situation. He set about looking for flint stones and gathered any pieces of dr
y twigs and moss that he could find. He preferred to be busy. He did not want to have time to think or worry.
Eily watched him. Then for an hour he tried to get a spark to light the fire, but nothing happened. Eily had a few goes too.
‘Leave it, Michael, we can try later.’ Eily dampened a cloth with water and laid it to Peggy’s burning cheeks and forehead. Her whole head of dark brown hair was clammy with sweat as she tossed and turned. A few times she called out for Mother in a low voice.
‘Hush, love. Hush, love,’ was all that Eily could manage.
All that day and night Eily sat with Peggy, stroking her hair and holding her hand, giving her the fever mixture and trying to cool her down. Michael went off in search of nettles and roots and herbs to mix with a bit of water to make a thin cold soup. At night Michael dozed off, but Eily forced herself to stay awake. The little girl tossed and turned and sometimes cried out in pain. She had a nightmare about the dogs attacking her, and kept shouting ‘Dog, the dog,’ her eyes wide and staring, before collapsing back into a heavy sleep. Eily knew that Peggy didn’t know who she was with or where she was. Also she couldn’t help wondering, would they all get the fever now. Who would look after her if she got sick? She could feel her head bursting with the worry of it all. Eily kept checking Peggy’s skin. It was burning like fire with no sign of cooling down. However, there was no tinge of yellow to it at all. That was a good sign. Her skin glowed pink with her temperature and her two cheeks were a rosy red.
As she dozed lightly, Eily thought about Mother and Bridget, the baby nestled into her arms. Had Mother gone to join her little one in heaven? Eily opened her heart and prayed, ‘Don’t let Peggy die – don’t take away my little sister – keep her safe – let her get well.’
Eily dozed and when she woke up the early morning was damp. Her arms and back were stiff and sore. Peggy was still in a deep sleep, her breathing loud and far too fast.
Eily walked away a few yards to relieve herself and then took the can of water and gulped some down; the rest she splashed on her face and back to try and wake herself up. She could send Michael for more when he roused himself. If only they had the fire. She picked up the flints, sparking them off each other in a temper. It caught some dried moss and began to smoulder! She hardly dared move as she angled a few twigs to catch the small flame. They were a bit damp and cold after the night and spluttered a little, but they took. Now at least they had the comfort of a bit of fire.
Michael and Eily both felt useless. There was very little they could do but sit and stay near Peggy. Michael roved around frantically to find something of substance to eat, but to no avail. Flower heads, grass, leaves, everything was being added to the water along with a tiny bit of grain, but it did nothing to kill the growing hunger pains in their stomachs. Michael kept his eyes constantly peeled for the sight of a rabbit or hare but never saw even the sign of one. It was hopeless. Soon both of them would be too weak to walk. They would have to do something.
Michael disappeared for the morning with a grim look on his face, and came back with some kind of creature skinned and cleaned out, but there was little eating in it. Cooked with the nettle leaves, it was disgusting, and a feeling of queasiness washed over Eily as she forced herself to swallow it and later to try and keep it down.
That evening, with Peggy’s head resting in her lap, Eily couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if they had gone to the workhouse with Tom Daly and the crowd from their district. Peggy wouldn’t be sick, and they might have had a bit of stew and a piece of bread each day. Had she made the wrong choice and cost them all their lives? She felt so depressed and downhearted. Maybe they could still go to a workhouse. There was bound to be one somewhere around. They might get help there. The idea burned in her brain. She couldn’t leave Peggy, but Michael – he could go, maybe, and someone might come to help them with Peggy.
CHAPTER 14
Michael’s Desperate Search
MICHAEL SET OFF ACROSS THE FIELDS. He had stockpiled enough fuel to keep the fire going. He felt frightened and strange on his own, but knew that Eily should stay with Peggy. Eily had hugged him close when he was leaving, and further on he turned back for a last look, wondering would he ever see his two sisters again. He knew basically which direction to take. He hoped he might meet someone along the road who would tell him the way to the workhouse.
He walked for over an hour and a half without seeing a sinner, then at the end of a small boreen he noticed a curl of smoke coming from a broken-down old cabin. He made his way to it and hammered against the door. No one replied. He remembered the trick he had played when they were left on their own in the cottage and how scared they had been.
‘I don’t want to come in, don’t worry. I just want directions. Is the town of Castletaggart anywhere near here?’
There was no reply, so he repeated the question.
A deep husky voice answered. ‘It’s a good two to three days’ walk for tired legs and feet.’
‘Is there a workhouse roundabouts, then?’ begged Michael.
The old man inside considered before he spoke. ‘I heard that the O’Leary mill had been turned into a workhouse. It’s about a half-day from here. You keep to the main road and turn off at the bridge over the running river, then right, and you can’t help but see it.’ Then, as an afterthought, the voice added, ‘But I’d prefer to die in my own bed and not with strangers.’
‘Thank you,’ said Michael, starting to move off.
‘God spare you, lad, and keep you from all harm.’
Michael felt sad for the old man all alone in the world with no one to look after him.
He kept walking on. Two or three times he felt dizzy and lightheaded and had to sit down to get his breath back. He could hear the river water running, but still could not see it. Then up ahead he was able to make out the crossroads and the humpy bridge. Two women lay on the ground near the bridge. They were both so weak they didn’t notice the young boy pass them.
Michael could not believe it when he came to the old mill. Crowds of people were waiting, sleeping on the cobblestones. They could go no further. A few of them were grouped together in families. They lay in their rags or blankets, relieved not to be on their own. From within the building came a constant moaning and crying, and a smell of disease and sickness seemed to fill the air around the place. Some people were praying out loud.
A nun, dressed in full habit, came through a small wooden door. She spoke in a loud voice: ‘This place is full. We have no space for man, woman or child, nor is there spare food. Perhaps by tomorrow when we have removed those who have died of sickness and the fever, we may be able to take a few.’
A murmur ran through the crowd and the women began to wail and cry. They had no place left to go, here was as good a place to die as anywhere else. At least they might get a blessing said over them.
Michael began to run – he did not know where the energy came from – down past the bridge and back the way he had come. Tears coursed down his face. He could feel a pain in his chest and knew that his heart was broken in two and his childhood gone forever. He slowed down, he had a long and miserable way to go. There was no God, and if there was he was a monster.
Eily kept watching Peggy. She thrashed and moaned and cried for Mother again and again. Eily gave her more of the medicine and couldn’t help but notice that the jar was nearly empty. She herself was exhausted too. Nothing she could say or do would help Peggy now. She put her arms around her and kissed her little button nose and the freckles on her cheeks. The skin felt cooler to the touch. Within half an hour Peggy was freezing. Despite an extra blanket, shivers ran though her body and her teeth chattered.
Eily got in under the blankets with her, trying to keep her warm. The day itself was bright and sunny with just a soft breeze blowing. Eily hugged her close. She was only the weight of a baby. Eily rubbed each limb, trying to still the shivering and shaking.
‘I’m here, Peggy. I’m here, Peggy,’ she kept whis
pering, not sure if her little sister could even hear her.
At last the shivering and chattering teeth began to still. Peggy’s body seemed more relaxed, her breathing quieter. She slept in the comfort of Eily’s arms, her head on her chest.
Eily looked up through the hawthorn tree. Its heavy branches moved softly in the breeze, the blue sky peeping through. Eily thought she noticed a blackbird up above, hiding among the foliage. Her eyes felt heavy and before she knew it, she was asleep.
Michael walked slowly. There was no rush now that he had nothing to bring back. He crossed a low broken-down stone wall. He could smell some wild garlic, and he rooted until he found it and put some in his pocket. One more wall and field to cross before he would be safely back with the girls.
Gradually Michael became aware of the sound of mooing. A cow had tried to get in over a ditch and her two legs had got caught in a large pile of brambles and thorns. They were embedded into her pale brown-and-white skin. Michael hated to see an animal in distress or pain and his first instinct was to help. He had passed a field with about twenty cows in it over a mile back and noticed the cowherd asleep on the grass. This cow must have strayed from there. Suddenly he got an idea. He took to his heels and ran, hell for leather.
‘Eily! Eily! Get up, quick. Come on, we’ve no time to lose,’ Michael shouted.
Eily stretched. Peggy was snoring gently. She lowered Peggy’s head down on the blanket. She rubbed her eyes. The sun was going down. It was nearly dusk. She must have been asleep for hours.
‘Eily, will you come on. We only have a bit of a chance. Get the blade and the water can.’ He had already begun to run back through the weeds and grass.
Under the Hawthorn Tree: Children of the Famine Page 7