Under the Hawthorn Tree: Children of the Famine

by Marita Conlon-McKenna

  Eily dropped a few twigs on the fire which had nearly gone out, picked up the blade and can and followed him.

  CHAPTER 15

  The Cow

  ‘WAIT, MICHAEL! WHAT IS IT? Where are we going?’ she shouted.

  He turned back and signalled her to be quiet. Within a minute he had led her to the ditch where the cow stood, still trapped.

  Eily looked puzzled. Surely he wasn’t going to try and kill the cow. She patted her on the rump. The cow looked around balefully, her liquid brown eyes soft and gentle but yet afraid.

  ‘Keep a look-out for a minute,’ urged Michael.

  She let her eyes roam around but couldn’t see anything move.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she hissed.

  ‘I’m going to bleed her,’ he replied.

  ‘What?’ said Eily. ‘But you don’t know how to, Michael.’

  ‘I heard Father tell us stories often enough about times before the potatoes failed and he and his father bled the landlord’s cattle. Come here and give me a hand.’

  He was patting the cow on the neck and rubbing his hand down her front and side to find a vein. His father had told him that if you hit the main vein by mistake, the animal would bleed to death in a few minutes. He searched around until he found a likely one. Eily passed him the blade. He made a nick in the finer skin under the neck, but nothing happened. He deepened the cut and a droplet or two of blood appeared. The cow lowed and rolled her frightened eyes.

  ‘Easy girl, easy,’ assured Eily, patting her and trying to calm her. Michael was squeezing at the opening with his fingers. The blood began to trickle and then to flow freely and spatter on the ground. Eily held the can to catch it as it fell. The blood seemed to pump quicker and quicker and in a little while the can was nearly full. Michael then made Eily put pressure on the vein and hold it to stop the bleeding while he mixed a paste of clay and grass and spit and smeared it on the cut. It took about ten minutes before it slowed down to a slight seepage. The animal was baffled. They helped to tear the brambles and thorns from her legs and pull her out of the ditch, and then they led her back into the field. Michael knew it would only be a matter of time before the cowherd would come searching for her.

  They couldn’t believe it when, about five minutes later, they heard the young man calling the cow. Although they were a good distance away, they were terrified and lay down in the long grass, hoping they were well hidden. Eily kept a good hold of the precious can. They did not dare to stir for about twenty minutes, then they got back to Peggy as quickly as they could.

  She was still dozing peacefully. Her skin and temperature felt more normal to the touch.

  ‘Well, Michael, what about the workhouse? Is it far? Will we be able to get help for Peggy?’ Eily kept on with a barrage of questions.

  Michael hardly knew where to begin. He bowed his head, avoiding her eyes.

  ‘Things are desperate,’ he whispered. Eily got down on her knees, and touched his arm. ‘The workhouse is a few hours’ walk,’ he continued. ‘We’d never manage to carry her that far, and anyway it would be no good.’ He stopped for a moment. ‘Eily, it was dreadful. You could hear the crying and moaning from down the road – and the smell! It’s a place of sickness. Outside, the people sit, waiting for a bed to die on. They’re all like corpses but still alive, just about. And food – there’s none, divil a bi t . We have no place to go. Castletaggart is still a two- or three-day walk. We’re too weak – we’d never make it. My head is giddy and light. Maybe we should just lie here and wait?’

  ‘What about the can? We’ve got that now. That’s something,’ pleaded Eily. ‘It’ll give us a bit of strength.’

  She got up, took the can and poured enough from it to cover the base of the pot. If only they had a bit of meal or something to mix into it. There were a few bits of grain and husks down at the bottom of the bag. She emptied them in. Michael silently handed her a bit of the wild garlic and she added part of it to the mixture and then held it over the low fire. She took care that the mixture didn’t burn as it thickened and stuck together, making a dark brown, nearly black cake. She divided it up, giving Michael the largest portion.

  The taste was strange and strong. She nibbled at hers and then swallowed it quickly, as it was a bit crumbly. She had reserved a piece, just in case, for Peggy. They were both exhausted and spent the evening resting. Michael fell asleep, at one stage crying out as though in a nightmare.

  Then, as if a miracle had happened, Peggy opened her eyes.

  ‘Eily, can I have a sup of water? I’m really thirsty.’

  She was totally baffled by Eily’s cries of joy and endearments. The little girl drank a full can of water. Her face was as pale as snow and her eyes were like two huge brown dots with deep circles underneath. Eily took her up on her lap and kissed her nearly from top to toe. Her fever was gone. She would get better now. Eily sang her a few of her favourite songs and kept telling her what a good little girl she was.

  Michael was just as surprised when he woke at mid-morning and found Peggy sitting up, leaning against the curved tree trunk. He gave her a wink, then ran across the field and picked an assortment of wild flowers and dropped them on her lap. The little girl was flattered with all the attention. She felt shaky and weak, but had no memory of how sick she had been. Eily gave her the left-over blood cake from the night before. She would make more that evening. After a while, Peggy dozed off again.

  Michael and Eily decided that they must get Peggy and themselves strong enough again for the rest of the journey. It was their only chance.

  The next few days were spent hunting for food. They had to keep the fire going also. They had finished the blood. Michael went searching at night and had been lucky enough to catch a rat and a hedgehog. They had lost their squeamishness by now and knew that all that mattered was their survival. Nettles were plentiful, and every ripening berry was also picked.

  At last Peggy was back on her feet. On the third day, Michael and Eily got her to the stream. She sat on a rock as Eily washed her, and afterwards her skin tingled and she felt the last trace of the sickness had been washed away.

  By midday the breeze had freshened. The sky had darkened and clouds scudded along, blocking out the sun.

  ‘Will we make a start?’ questioned Eily. ‘Do you think you’re ready yet, Peggy?’

  A bit of colour had started to creep back into the little girl’s wan features.

  ‘I want to go and find the aunts, the ones that made the beautiful cake for Mother,’ answered Peggy.

  They collected their stuff and threw dirt on the fire. It looked like it might start to drizzle soon and it would be best to get on the way once more.

  CHAPTER 16

  Castletaggart

  NO WONDER FINE LADIES drive around in carriages, thought Eily. Walking is only for the poor! The walk seemed so long. She had fallen into step with Peggy, who could not be hurried or pushed too far. They all kept their heads down and did not speak, everyone wrapped deep in their own thoughts.

  They passed a field of cows, and Michael and Eily smiled, wondering i f their cow-friend remembered them. Michael had also pointed out the turn at the crossroads that led to the workhouse.

  They took the journey slowly, walking along the road, sitting down for frequent rests.

  One time they were sitting against a high demesne wall. Like a fortress it guarded the land and gardens and leafy walks of an old estate. The grand house with its broad stone steps and magnificent flower beds and garden ornaments was hidden from prying eyes. Peggy was engrossed watching an army of ants as they marched back and forth, disappearing into a small hole in the dusty brick.

  ‘Look what’s behind the wall,’ she called to her older brother and sister. But they ignored her. ‘Look, Eily, they’ve got apples and bushes of berries.’

  Eily ran over and looked through the crack. She let out a gasp. But the wall was too high – it was about twenty feet tall, designed to keep people out. Michael walked
around the front section of the wall to see if at any stage it dipped or a branch of a tree leaned over it.

  Suddenly Peggy was jumping up and down with excitement and pointing to a section of wall that seemed to be cracked. Long grass reached up and behind it and ivy had taken root and spread the whole way up to the top. Peggy pulled back the ivy to reveal a small gap where two or three blocks of stone had crumbled and worn away. They would never fit through it.

  ‘I’ll be able to squeeze through,’ boasted Peggy. ‘After all, I’m the littlest one.’

  Eily knew it was stealing, but these times were different. She handed Peggy the near-empty food bag.

  ‘Promise me, Peggy, if you hear anything you’ll get out straight away,’ said Eily solemnly. Peggy just nodded her head and disappeared through the ivy.

  Eily moved further up along the wall trying to peep through a narrow crack. She couldn’t see Peggy at all. It seemed like the little one was in there for an age. Michael was anxiously pacing up and down outside. Suddenly Peggy’s dark hair peeped through the ivy and she passed a bulging bag out to Michael. She dipped back in and then climbed out clutching a fistful of multicoloured stems of gladioli and heavy waxen peonies. Eily had to stop herself from laughing.

  They walked about a quarter of a mile down the road, then climbed up over a stile and sat down to eat, hidden from the road behind a pile of brambles.

  ‘Oh, Eily, you should have seen the place,’ yearned Peggy. ‘There were all kinds of berries and fruits there.’ The bag was jammed with an assortment of gooseberries, raspberries, huge strawberries and some windfall apples that were still very hard and green. ‘There was a little white seat to sit on, and a thing in the centre of a little pond with water spurting out of its mouth, and little fishes swimming all around. I would have tried to catch one, but they were very small and all goldy colour. There was another huge wall inside and there was a white gate in the middle of it, but it was locked and when I looked through the gate there was a whole field, full of cabbages and caulies and carrots and onions and big things of corn and huge marrows. Oh, if only the gate had been open.’

  ‘You did really well, pet,’ reassured Eily, as they all dipped in their hands and filled them with the berries. What sweetness and juiciness filled their mouths! Peggy insisted on carrying the bunch of flowers, saying they were for the aunts.

  The next morning they all had cramps in their stomachs and chewed Mary Kate’s special remedy, hoping it would give them some relief.

  A priest passed by with his little horse and trap. They asked him i f i t was much further to Castletaggart. He held his handkerchief to his face when he turned to answer them. They would be there by six o’clock, he assured them, and then he jiggled the horse’s reins and went off in the same direction, not even offering them a lift.

  Peggy started to cry. ‘We’ll never get there – it’s too far – my legs ache.’

  Eily bent down and massaged her leg muscles. ‘Maybe they’re growing pains, pet, now you’re getting to be such a big girl,’ she encouraged. Michael offered to carry the drooping bundle of flowers for her.

  Every step seemed like ten steps as they travelled the rest of their journey, willing themselves to reach the town. It was nearly nightfall when they got there. Castletaggart at last! Peggy’s mouth hung open with wonder and Michael tried to walk tall and straight and proud.

  ‘Look at the buildings! Look at the shops!’ shouted Peggy, pointing in every direction.

  Although the three of them were bone-weary and exhausted and it was almost dark, a sense of excitement rushed through their veins.

  ‘Where’s the shop? Where are the aunties?’ Peggy kept pestering Eily.

  To Eily it was like a dream come true. A wide grin spread across her face. She had done it, she had got them all safely here. They were weak, but they were in Castletaggart. They walked through the town.

  One or two people brushed past them, unwilling to meet their gaze, afraid of being asked for help. The place was quiet and the streets were nearly empty. A few men sat inside the doors of two pubs, supping porter.

  A high white building stood on the left-hand side of the street. Large steps led up to it and men and women chatted outside its doors. One huge room was lit by a chandelier and tables were set, ready for dinner.

  A soldier stopped when he saw the children and came over. ‘Come on, you brats, move away from the hotel. We want no beggars in this town. What’s your business here?’

  Eily felt herself go crimson, suddenly aware of how badly they looked. ‘We’re looking for our aunts – they have a shop here,’ she told him.

  The soldier stared at them in disbelief. ‘What kind of a shop would this be?’ he questioned.

  ‘One with cakes and tarts and pies,’ piped up Peggy.

  The soldier scratched his head at such a notion but eventually pointed them towards a side street.

  Eily could not believe it – finally here. Her heart was hammering in her chest. They walked down the street, passing houses that opened right on to it. The soldier had said the shop had a blue and white door, and a big wide blue window with white shutters. At last they found it! The blinds were drawn. The children tapped at the door, but no one came. They lifted the knocker – no one was at home. Maybe the aunts had gone out? They slipped down a narrow alleyway and lay down to sleep.

  Tomorrow, they would try again.

  CHAPTER 17

  Journey’s End

  THE SOUNDS OF THE TOWN woke the children. They stretched. All their muscles were stiff and sore. Eily brushed the loose dust and dirt from their clothes. Inside, she was bursting with hope and almost felt light-hearted. Today was the day. They had made it. They were right in the middle of Castletaggart. This was the town their Mother had so often talked about.

  They walked the short distance back towards the shop. Storekeepers were already setting out their wares and putting up stands with their selection of goods on display. The owner of the hardware store hung buckets and pots and pans and jugs from brass hooks around his shopfront. Shovels and fire-irons lay stacked near the door. Peggy was so amazed at all the goings-on that she walked straight into a pile of green watering cans and sent them flying.

  The children stared longingly at the provisions store, their eyes transfixed by the amount of food there. Sacks of flour and meal lay heavily under the counter. From the ceiling hung large hunks of various meats. On a painted white shelf were jars of various sweets. The shopkeeper was carefully wiping some freshly laid eggs and placing them in a wicker basket, while his wife was weighing out small bags of tea. The children swallowed hard, realising just how hungry they really were.

  Eily pulled Peggy by the hand and moved quickly towards the shop with the blue and white shutters. A woman was standing outside with a bucket of water and a mop. She wore a large white apron.

  Peggy was nearly bursting with excitement. ‘Is that one of Mammy’s aunties?’ she whispered.

  Eily wasn’t sure, and cautiously approached the woman, who was busy washing down the front door step and the path outside the shop. The woman turned and caught sight of them.

  ‘Get away out of it, ye spalpeens. There’s nothing for ye here. Go on, now, or I’ll call the soldiers.’

  ‘We’re Eily and Michael and Peggy O’Driscoll,’ began Eily, ‘Margaret Murphy from Drumneagh’s children.’

  The woman stared at them. ‘Divil a bit do I care who you are. I don’t know ye, anyways. Move on, now, it should be the workhouse or the roads for the likes of ye.’ Eily’s heart sank.

  Peggy stood staring straight ahead. Huge tears filled her eyes. ‘You’re not our auntie.’

  The woman shook her head, and turned around and began to wash with the mop, ignoring them. Eily went back up to her again.

  ‘Mam, did ye ever hear of the Murphys of Drumneagh – Nano and Lena were our grandmother’s sisters. They would be quite old now. They had a shop, a baking shop. Did you ever hear tell of them?’

  The woman s
et aside her broom, then walked to the corner of the street and pointed to the far end of the main street.

  ‘There’s a lane over there that runs off the market square. It’s called Market Lane. There used to be a shop there run by two old ladies. Try there.’

  Then she turned on her heel and walked back, not wanting to entertain one more word of conversation with them. She picked up the bucket and mop and closed the door firmly behind her.

  The children stood still. The town was beginning to fill up. They crossed the street and found Market Lane. They walked up and down it twice. There was no sign of the aunts’ shop. There were stables and a closed-up general store – and then beside it they noticed a house with a small bay window. The paint was peeling and the doorway was dirty. It could have been a shop!

  Eily went to knock at the door and was surprised when it opened. They edged their way into a gloomy room, divided by a wooden counter. On a shelf behind, dusty rows of jams and preserves stood to attention. This couldn’t be the place, thought Eily. Not the clean busy shop, packed with customers on market day. A wave of disappointment rushed over her.

  Peggy’s eyes were popping out of her head as she looked around. ‘There’s no cakes or pies here. Where are they?’

  Eily tried to shush her. An old woman appeared from behind a heavy drape at the far side of the counter. She was stooped and moved slowly. Her white hair was tied up in a neat bun. She blessed herself when she saw the children.

  ‘Ye poor starved craters, I’ve nothing for you here. Go up the town and you might have a better chance of a bit of help,’ she said kindly. ‘Where are your mother and father to be letting you roam around all alone?’

  ‘Auntie Lena,’ said Eily, her voice trembling.

  The old woman stopped. She stared at the children. Walking skeletons, not a pick on any of them. The boy was filthy and the little one looked as if a puff of wind would nearly knock her over. And the older girl, she looked worn-out. The old lady shook her head. Imagine having to live through these desperate times.