To Catch a Dream

by Mary Wood

  ‘And I’m for telling you, Seamus, me little Bridget comes with me, or I will take meself home. I’m not leaving without her. I’m heart-sore at having to leave Will, but I have to accept ’tis as he and Janet are not long for this world. But then, what is it me little Bridget will be doing? I’m not having her in an orphanage, I’m not.’

  No further protest came from Seamus. Holding Bridget to him, he quickened his steps. It was all she could do to keep up with him. The turmoil of emotions swirling around her drained Bridie. Oh, Will, was it that I’ll ever be for seeing you again?

  The note she’d left for him told of her love, but to make sure he didn’t send for the police to come after her and thereby bring the wrath of Paddy down on himself, she had written:

  Forgive me, Will. I couldn’t be for taking the sickness in the house and watching you and Janet losing everything that I know is you. Remember me with love, for you will be forever in my heart, my darling. And hold onto my promise: one day we will be together in Heaven, with little Eric, so we will.

  The thought of Will’s despair shredded her, and sobs weakened her body. Seamus didn’t stop, but his voice held hurt as he spoke of her distress. ‘Is it that you hate me, Bridie? Are you so desperately unhappy to be with me at last, as we were meant?’

  ‘Seamus . . . Seamus, why? We were in love many years ago, but ’tisn’t as I am in love with you now. What I feel is near to hate, so it is. You’re ripping me heart out by taking me from me man. I wasn’t for facing living without him when I knew he was going to die, but now I’ll not be by his side when he is for taking his last breath. Please, Seamus. Please let me go back. I promise you, when Will passes on, I’ll be coming to you. Please, Seamus . . .’

  Branches sprang back as he passed through them. They hit her in the face and twigs tugged at her hair, but the pain gave her some relief from the suffocating panic rising within her. Never had she felt so helpless. A voice – a loud whisper – told her they were near to the Vardo.

  ‘Is that yourself, Seamus?’

  ‘’Tis, Paddy. Good man. Now, you know what to do? Fix up for your man to meet me in Portpatrick on 20th September. Tell him to bring a thousand with him, cos ’tis as what I’ll have with me will be worth double that.’

  ‘I will, Seamus.’

  Seamus helped Bridie onto the seat behind the horse, then passed Bridget to her. He turned to Paddy, handing him a package. ‘Here, there’s a good bundle there for your trouble. Keep low for a bit. Don’t be flashing it around or they’ll be for putting the robbery onto your shoulders, so they will. Keep your ear to the ground. And don’t hesitate to carry out what I have paid you to do if you get the slightest whiff of the law on me trail.’

  ‘I’m telling you, Seamus, it will be a pleasure, so it will. ’Tis rare I get the chance to use me skills. They’ll fry, and folk’ll see the fire back in Leeds.’

  This shuddered through Bridie, swelling the sack of despair that she held within her.

  ‘Good. Take care, Paddy. See you in September.’

  Paddy spat on the ground. His face turned in her direction as he said, ‘Aye. God bless you, and God bless the cause and keep it from bastard traitors, so one day we can all take ourselves back to our homeland.’

  Weary to her core and with the bones of her aching, Bridie found it difficult to open her eyes. When she did, she thought it strange to see the canvas roof above her. How is it that I got inside the Vardo?

  Her head seemed weighted down, aching with a pain she could hardly bear. The curtains hooked back from the doorway let in the sun, and the glare hurt her eyes. She turned her head, ricking her neck. Bridget! But she had no need to worry. Bridget, snuggled in a ball at the bottom of the bed, slept on as if still in her own little cot at home.

  ‘Oh, Bridget, me Bridget.’ The tears threatened again, but Bridie swallowed them back. The smell of something frying wafted into the caravan, and her stomach churned. Oh, God, she was going to be sick! Scrambling off the bed, she ran down the steps of the Vardo and managed to reach the hedge just as the vomit billowed out of her.

  ‘Here, drink this. It will be for settling you.’

  She recognized the nettle tea. Its familiar aroma brought back memories to her, as did the powerful taste in her mouth. Brushing the memories back into the safety of the place where she kept them locked away in her mind, she asked, ‘Have you been for doing something to me, Seamus? I have a feeling on me I have experienced before.’

  ‘Well, it was in me interest to keep you asleep . . .’

  ‘Ether! You drugged me! Seamus, why? Oh, God – Bridget! Tell me you didn’t!’

  ‘To be sure she only had a wee whiff. I wouldn’t have done, but she started to whimper when I took her from your arms.’

  ‘You bastard, Seamus! There was no need; I came willingly. What is it you want from me other than that?’

  ‘I needed to make good progress and thought it best to keep you both asleep whilst I did. It’s been two days since we left . . .’

  ‘Two days! Bridget, Bridget . . .’ Her fear propelled her up the steps. She lifted her daughter off the bed. Her sunken, unseeing eyes opened, then closed, then opened halfway. White froth foamed around the corners of her mouth. ‘Bridget! Oh, God, Seamus, you’ve near killed her! Me wee babby . . .’

  ‘No! Didn’t I only give her a little?’ He grabbed Bridget from her. ‘Away and bring me the tea. Hurry yourself!’

  Her mouth stretched wide, but no sound came.

  ‘Do as I say, Bridie – now!’

  His sharp tone compelled her body to move. Grabbing the pot of tea from the brick on the side of the fire, she hurried back inside with it. Seamus held a white cloth in his hand, while Bridget lay on her back on the bed, her face ashen.

  ‘Take off the lid. Bridie, do it!’

  With trembling hands she did as he said, while her heart screamed prayers beseeching the Blessed Mother herself. Holy Mary, Mother of God, if you’ve never been for listening to me before, listen to me now. Save me wee Bridget – save her . . . please!

  The cloth turned brown as it soaked up the liquid. Seamus prised open Bridget’s mouth and squeezed a drop of the tea onto her dry, crusty tongue. It moved, just a twitch. He tried again, letting a little more drip further into her mouth. Patches of damp appeared in the white, furry coating. Bridie couldn’t breathe. Still and mesmerized, the only active part of her was her pleading mind. Seamus dipped the cloth again and again, tilting Bridget’s head back and letting drops of the liquid touch her throat. Although Bridget gagged, the tea disappeared. She choked, coughing and spluttering. He lifted her up and patted her back, his actions gentle and caring, his voice soothing and encouraging. ‘Come on, me wee thing. When I do it again, you swallow.’ She did. A few drops later she began to suck the cloth each time he soaked it. ‘Good girl. Open your eyes, little one.’ Bridget moaned and writhed.

  ‘Mammy is here, me little Bridget. Come on, precious . . .’

  This time Bridget opened her eyes, looked at Bridie and started to cry. ‘Hurts, Mammy, hurts.’

  ‘Where, darling?’

  Bridget pointed to her head. Bridie shoved Seamus out of the way, hissing obscenities at him as she did so. Taking Bridget in her arms, she carried her outside.

  ‘There, didn’t I say she would be all right? Look at her. She’s enjoying the ride. It was liquid she needed, though I wasn’t for thinking that until I saw her tongue. She ate well after she’d had plenty of the tea. Are you not for remembering me grandmother, and her faith in the nettle tea? Sure she was right, for it has cured everything that ever ailed me, and now it has done the same for wee Bridget.’

  ‘Seamus, don’t be for making light of it, and I’m not for wanting to think of the past. You could have been after killing me wee child! If you ever do anything like that again, I’ll take your own gun to you, so I will.’

  ‘’Tis as I shall have no need to. We travelled a powerful way the day. This time tomorrow we will reach Portpatrick. ’Ti
s a pretty harbour on the west of Scotland. At night you can see across the water to our country, as the many candles flickering and oil lamps burning light it up. ’Tis a sight you will not want to miss. Me man will meet us with his boat. It’ll be calm waters we will be needing, but ’tis that the Irish Sea doesn’t lie quiet for long. He has a steam engine to power his boat, but even so it will take us two days to reach the south of Ireland.’

  ‘Seamus, won’t you be for changing your mind? If you let me go, I’ll not be telling anyone where you have gone . . .’

  ‘No, Bridie, and whish asking. Your whining is driving me insane. I cannot think. I have me mind on looking for a field – ’tis marked by a line of stones across the verge, just before the gate. There is a clean stream running through it, where we can get water and bathe ourselves. A row of high pine trees shields it, so we could camp for a few hours, make a fire, cook food and rest our bodies.’

  The brick of despair inside her took on more weight. The hopelessness of her situation ground her down. She could not escape, as where would she go? They had passed a few crofts set back off the road, but what if they wouldn’t give her shelter while she sent a message? For miles and miles there had been only wilderness and mountains, making for spectacular scenery, just as she had heard Scotland had, but barren of life and of hope.

  ‘Bridie, I have a mind to take you to me tonight. You wouldn’t be fighting me off, would you? We cannot be man and wife till we hear God has made you free by taking your man to him, but after all that has happened between us, I am not for waiting for that.’

  ‘No, Seamus. No. And don’t talk of Will in that way. My heart is breaking with missing him, and I cannot . . .’

  ‘Oh, in the way you couldn’t with Mr Harvey, is that what you are saying, Bridie? To be sure, I’d like to be tasting some of what you gave to him and every man who asked it of you. But once I make you mine, you will never lie with another – never, Bridie. Is it that you are for understanding that?’

  She didn’t answer him. He turned the Vardo into the next opening, and it rocked and swayed over the uneven surface. Pots and pans clanged together. Seamus fell silent, concentrating his mind on getting them across to the water.

  Left with her own thoughts she wondered, Did I ever love him? Yes, I can remember him being the world to me. Could he be so again? Could I lie with him, want him, find with him the deep satisfaction my body craves, and which is a curse on me? She didn’t know, and her weary body gave her no sign of the fire that usually burned within her at the mere mention of a man’s interest. But for her own safety, and Bridget’s, she could pretend. She’d had a lot of practice at that. Hadn’t she had to do so many a time when there was money involved and the customer had repulsed the heart of her? What would it matter if she had to do it again?

  26

  Two weeks later

  Lies upon lies

  Issy had her own thoughts on the goings-on, but she couldn’t voice them to Will. She had a mind no one – except Tom – would think her account had any merit. Tom might listen to her. But no, she couldn’t talk it over with him; she might have to tell him things about the traveller that she didn’t want him to know.

  Everyone blamed and despised poor Bridie. But they hadn’t seen the love and devotion she’d given to Will, or her heart breaking at the thought of losing him. Nor had they seen her patience and loving care with her difficult ma-in-law.

  And then, what of Mr Harvey? What part had he played in it all? The story of his attack being a deliberate ploy to disable him, in order to facilitate the robbery on his house, seemed credible, but why was he up on that hill? The very place Bridie had said she was going to? Issy had long since forgotten the kiss she’d seen them share, but what had taken place had brought it back to her mind. It haunted her every waking hour as she tried to make sense of everything.

  The only thing that didn’t fit her theory was how Bridie had returned home. She’d been agitated, and in a state that she’d tried to cover up, but she had come back, and nothing about her had suggested she was about to run off. But it did seem that her leaving had been her own choice. The note said so, and kidnap didn’t fit with that.

  Issy finished putting the last of the clean linen in the bottom drawer of the chest next to Will’s bed, saying, ‘There, that’s done. Can I get you anything, Will?’

  He’d lain still and quiet while she’d worked around him, too weak to do any other. She’d dreaded him questioning her. He tried to speak, then nodded towards the glass of water on the side. Holding his head, she helped him take a sip. Once he’d swallowed, he tried to talk again, and this time managed to whisper, ‘Issy, thou knows me Bridie wouldn’t have left me. She loved me. Sommat must have happened. I don’t believe her note. I don’t . . .’

  ‘Neither do I, Will.’ Mentally she crossed herself as she spoke the lie she’d prepared. ‘I’m for thinking she had a breakdown of some sort. Happen in a few days she’ll come home.’

  ‘You mean – she might be sick in her mind?’

  ‘Aye, I do. It’s horrible to think of, but I think that’s the most likely reason she’s gone. She had a lot on her plate.’

  ‘I know. And I couldn’t lighten her load.’ A coughing fit racked his body. Issy supported his frail frame until it passed. His breathing laboured as he continued, ‘Tell her . . . Tell her I – I believe in her. I know she . . . she didn’t . . .’ His eyes, dark masses of blue sinking into hollow sockets, held a desperate plea as his skeletal, yellow-skinned face dropped forward. A rasping, gurgling sound like none she’d ever heard before came from him as he collapsed onto her.

  She lay him back down onto his pillow. Blood and filthy slime clogged his mouth. In desperation she tried to clear it away, all the while calling his name, but he’d gone. ‘Oh, Will, Will . . . If only you could have hung on till we got her back. Oh, poor, poor Bridie.’

  Her legs gave way. She slumped back onto the bedside chair as tears soaked her face and ran down her neck. Prayers didn’t come to her often, not pleading ones. She always berated God, as she couldn’t understand how he could let happen the things she saw in her dealings with people. But now she gave way to begging of Him, Please, God, bring Bridie back to us. Let her and little Bridget be safe. And help her. And help me in telling Janet that You’ve taken her precious son.

  She thought to add a plea for Mr Harvey, what with him nearing death’s door with pneumonia, but she couldn’t. For even though her mind hadn’t dwelt on it, she’d never forgiven him for what he’d done to Bridie on her wedding day. And, more than that, what he’d done to Miss Dvina. She didn’t like people who weren’t what they seemed, and Mr Harvey had more than one side to him.

  The sea mist swirled around the boat. Bridie sat below deck, unable to see out of the portholes, and feeling the dense isolation clawing at her. Carrying her to her doom, some would say – her just deserts. All morning she’d had this tugging sensation, like someone trying to pull her very soul from her. It intensified to a pitch until she wanted to scream and scream. She clutched Bridget to her as a presence surrounded her. At the same time she felt her terror melt into a comforting peace, before an emptiness left her exhausted. She lay down on the bunk, still clinging onto Bridget.

  ‘Mammy, Pappy’s here.’ Shock held Bridie silent. In a tearful voice, Bridget said, ‘Mammy, where’s Pappy? I wanna go to Pappy and Granna now.’ At Bridie shaking her head, Bridget demanded, ‘Yes, Mammy.’ Her tears broke and she sobbed, ‘Want Pappy, want Granna.’

  Bridie buried her face in her daughter’s soft, wispy hair. Her heart bled tears, but she couldn’t have the release of crying. Everything had died within her.

  ‘Mammy, I wanna go home. I want me Pappy . . .’

  ‘Whish, little one.’

  ‘Don’t want Seamus – he’s bad. Want Pappy.’

  ‘Seamus loves us. He is after taking us to the land where I was born. You will be happy there, so you will.’ How the lies trip off me tongue! But then isn’t it that I ha
ve to protect me wee child? Just as she thought this, a cold certainty came to her. ‘Bridget, you are for knowing how sick your pappy was. Well, the Baby Jesus couldn’t bear to see him like that, so he has sent his angel down with a lovely gold carriage to take him to rest with him in his beautiful garden. One day we will meet up with him again, but until then Pappy will look after us from his place in Heaven.’

  Bridget looked up at her with anger in her face. ‘No! Pappy not go! Pappy not say goodbye. Pappy wouldn’t . . .’

  ‘Bridget, Bridget, me wee love. He did say goodbye. He came onto the boat just now, so he did. Were you not for seeing him here yourself?’

  A calm settled over her as she gave voice to this. It is for being the truth – me lovely Will has gone. I know as he was for coming to me and Bridget to say goodbye. I shouldn’t have been afraid. Will must go to the resting place that is for him, and go with her love.

  Smiling down at Bridget, she saw a frown crease the little face that was so like Will’s. There was the same slight slant to her eyes, and the colour of them mirrored his. Her skin had the tinge of olive to it, and her hair was the exact match: black and shiny. With the logic of a child, Bridget couldn’t leave it there. ‘Didn’t see him. Pappy was in me head. I wanna see him, Mammy.’

  ‘That was all he could be managing. To be sure, we can’t transport our body to another place, not when we are sick and can’t travel. So he was after letting his spirit come to us. Sweetheart, Pappy was for being very sick. He had so much pain. Are you not for remembering how it felt when you fell over and your knees were scuffed and bleeding? Well, your pappy had more pain in him than that. Pain he couldn’t bear, no matter how the heart of him wanted to stay with us. Baby Jesus was for knowing it, and took the pain away. Now, go to sleep for a wee while and soon you will see green fields, gentle slopes and a beautiful land just like the one Pappy has gone to.’