Erin’s Child

by Erin's Child (retail) (epub)

  ‘I’d love to,’ said Liam, nudging Belle’s soft cheek with a horny-nailed finger. ‘But Father Gilchrist keeps lining jobs up for me. Says he, I’ve put ye down to call on Mrs Fitzgerald this afternoon. Why for, says I? To give her the last rites, says he, her brother sent word that the poor woman’s near to death.’

  ‘Did ye tell him ye’ve been reading her the last rites every Sunday for the last fifteen years?’ smiled Patrick.

  ‘And have himself put an end to one o’ life’s little pleasures? Sure, I did not. She serves a great class o’ brew does Mrs Fitzgerald. ’Tis not her fault that the Lord keeps sending her false alarms.’ He shared a laugh with Patrick. ‘I tell ye, Pat, that woman’s had so many Extreme Unctions she’s got her own oil-bottling plant out the back.’ He accompanied the family to the waiting carriages and watched each climb aboard. ‘God bless ye, Erin, ye’ve a beautiful child there. Take special care o’ her.’

  ‘I will, Father, an’ God bless you, too.’

  ‘Poor Liam,’ said Thomasin as the carriage transported them home. ‘He’s got his hands full with that one.’

  ‘He has,’ replied her husband grimly. ‘An’ if Father Gilchrist gets his way I’m thinking it’ll not just be poor Liam, but poor all of us.’

  * * *

  Sonny was in his studio, packing his brushes and paints ready for his journey to Paris. With Erin and Sam’s departure from York he had decided it was time for him to leave, too. It might seem a bit back-to-front to some people, him spending time in the haunts of starving artists when he already had a successful career, but he felt the visit might provide him with new concepts and even more importantly, would give him time to be alone. Much as he loved his family and Josie he desperately needed solitude. Like his parents, Sonny’s grief over his brother’s death was still strong. He paused in his leisurely packing to sink into memories.

  Dickie had been so colourful, had made such an impact on the folk around him, that even months after his death he still filled their minds… though now they all seemed to find it difficult to talk about him. A couple of months after his death there had been a surprise visit from Dickie’s solicitor. Bogged down by misery as they were, no one had given a thought to Dickie’s assets, but it transpired that he had made a will. At the time Sonny had been struck by the thought that this was rather out of character for his normally irresponsible brother, but had been too upset to bother questioning the man. His emotion was heightened on learning that Dickie had left him the house and its entire contents, his liquid assets to be shared equally between Erin, her parents and Sonny’s children – though this was hardly a generous bequest for it turned out that Dickie hadn’t been as rich as he had led them to believe.

  Sonny hadn’t wanted the house. When he had gone to look round it, he had found two maidservants dining in luxury and had immediately given them notice. But there had been a third person there – his brother’s ghost. Sonny couldn’t live with that. He had put the house and its contents up for sale, keeping nothing; he needed no memento to remind him.

  He thumbed the bristles of hog’s-hair and pondered on the subject of houses for he was in rather a quandary. He knew that when he and Josie married they should buy a house of their own – the bad experience of his first marriage had taught him that – but what of Rosie and Nick? They looked on their grandfather’s house as home and doted on Patrick as he did on them. It would be too big a wrench for either to move – even down the street. Sonny and Josie could hardly leave them, so they must stay too… but Sonny knew it was going to be very hard for his new wife to live amongst people to whom she had been a servant. All these considerations needed serious thought, that was why he was going away. He tore himself from his daydreaming and packed the last of his brushes. After this he took a lingering look around his studio then locked up and went home.

  Josie came round that same evening. Since leaving the Feeneys’ employ she had taken a cook/housekeeper’s post with another family. Sonny had seen the sense in this – she still needed to live while he was making up his mind and she wasn’t prepared to accept financial help from him until they were married. Apart from this, the household for which she worked was small and the work light. She had plenty of time to visit Rosie and Nick on an evening and on Sundays – though tonight her visit was mainly for Sonny whom she would not see again until Christmas. Hence the meeting was not exactly a carefree one.

  She and Sonny were seated close together on a sofa, a child on each lap. The four had the room to themselves. ‘Will you still come to see us when Father goes away?’ asked Rosanna. The conversation so far had been about little else but Father’s trip.

  The woman’s arms were laced more tightly around the little body. ‘Of course I will.’ She kissed the child noisily.

  ‘Every night?’

  ‘Well… not every night – but as often as I can and definitely on Sundays.’

  Rosanna and Nick spoke their gladness, causing the man and woman to share a fond smile over the children’s heads. ‘When Father gets back will you get married?’ enquired Nick.

  Josie laughed softly, her eyes full of love for the man and his children. ‘That’s not a question a little boy should be asking.’

  ‘But will you?’

  ‘Why so nosey?’ Josie reached a hand up to smooth the fair hair from his brow.

  ‘I just want to know when I’m getting a proper mother,’ stated Nick.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s time you were in bed?’ smiled his father.

  Rosie cuddled her cheek against the woman’s softness. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Well, I do.’ Sonny rose, lifting the boy onto his shoulders. ‘You’ve commandeered Josie enough. It’s my turn now – I won’t see her till Christmas.’ He had promised faithfully to come home then.

  ‘You won’t see us either,’ Rosanna pointed out, trying to press Josie back into her seat. ‘What d’you have to go for anyway?’

  ‘I’ve told you, it’s for my work.’

  ‘Gramps and Nan have work too but they come home every night.’

  ‘Eh, you always have an answer, don’t you?’ Sonny jabbed a finger into his daughter’s ribs making her squirm and giggle. ‘I’m not going for that long. I’ll be back before you’ve even missed me. I need to talk to Josie and give her instructions on how to keep you two in order while I’m gone. Away now! We’ll go find your Gramps and get him to tell you one of his tales, then maybe if you get ready for bed without a fuss you can spend a little more time with me later. Shall I ring for Abi or will you find Gramps yourselves?’ They said they could do the latter and he set Nick on his feet, waiting for the children to kiss Josie goodbye before telling them to run along.

  When he and Josie were alone he sat down again, putting his arm around her and chuckling over his children. She laid her head on his shoulder and nothing was said for a while.

  ‘I might be mistaken,’ Josie said finally, ‘but I thought I heard you tell the children you wanted to speak to me?’

  He clutched her fondly. ‘That was just to get rid of them. What I really want is this.’ He craned his head round to kiss her.

  She gave a long sigh with the parting of their lips. ‘Oh, I don’t know how I’m going to last till Christmas – you promise you will write?’

  ‘Promise. I don’t want to be away from you, you know. I wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to escape…’

  She smiled and touched a hand to his cheek. ‘I understand why you’re going… I’ll just miss you, that’s all.’

  They shared a long amorous embrace until Josie broke loose and panted laughingly, ‘I think it’s just as well you are going away!’

  With a rueful grin Sonny changed his position on the sofa. Josie wasn’t the sort to yield to passion before the wedding. He wished he could give her a definite date… but he must have time.

  She sensed his dilemma and turned the conversation to less personal matters. ‘Oh, I tell you who I saw today!’ She sat up and smoothed her clothes. �
��You know Dusty Miller who your Dickie was going to wed? Well no, not her,’ she forestalled his question, ‘but a girl I used to know who worked for the Millers. Well, I was in the butcher’s for a piece of beef – didn’t get it, mind, ended up with lamb,’ – she caught his amusement and said, ‘aye well, that’s beside the point. This girl, Betty, she was telling me that Dusty Miller has gone to live in America. Fancy that!’ Sonny showed interest. He had liked Dusty. ‘Has she sold the wholesale business, then?’

  ‘Apparently not. She just did a flit and left somebody in charge, didn’t say how long she’d be gone or anything. Well, I’m telling you backwards way on, really. How I got to know about it was that Betty was grumbling about the fella she left in charge, then it led on to her telling me about Dusty.’

  Sonny used her well-fleshed shoulder as a pillow, closing his eyes and making himself more comfortable. ‘How long’s she been gone?’

  Josie laid her head against the flaming-red one and stroked the hand that gripped hers. ‘Since late last year. She must’ve been having a good time. I wonder if she’ll ever come back?’

  Late last year. Sonny thought of the events that had been affecting this family late last year. The image of his brother’s roguish, laughing face stirred remembrance of their last conversation: Dickie had been going to America too… if he hadn’t been burnt to death. He mouthed this softly to his partner who stroked him comfortingly. ‘S’funny how things turn out, isn’t it?’ sighed Sonny. ‘I mean, Dusty going to America. Did she ever get married, d’you know?’

  ‘Don’t think so.’ Josie smiled then and nudged him gently. ‘You’ve gone and done it, haven’t you?’

  ‘Done what?’ Puzzled grey eyes met her grin.

  ‘Brought the subject around to marriage again when you don’t really want to talk about it.’

  He shuffled round and pinioned her arms. ‘Who says I don’t want to talk about it?’

  Her face was kind as she shook her head. ‘I’m not pressing you for a proposal, love. You go away if you have to and think about it for as long as you like.’

  He became serious then, breathing the earnest words against her cheek. ‘It’s not that I need to think about marrying you, Jos. I know I want you for my wife. I want you and me and Rosie and Nick to be a family… I just have to be sure I’m grown up enough to offer you the life you deserve. There’s things I have to sluice from my mind.’

  She knew well what these things were and put a hand to his lips. ‘John,’ she always used his proper name, ‘I don’t expect you to have got over everything already – even after a year, two years, who knows how long it’ll take? Last year was terrible, you lost your brother, your wife…’

  ‘I had stopped loving her, Jos.’

  ‘And no wonder after what she did… but it was still a dreadful thing to happen to her, and I’m not going to push you into anything. Take all the time you want.’

  And it was this generous offering that served to comfort Sonny in the months of solitary evenings that followed.

  Chapter Three

  The farmhouse kitchen was well defended against the cool evening. An ample fire crackled in the inglenook, the logs which formed it shooting red sparks up the chimney. At the foot of each door was a length of material, rolled up and stuffed with rags to form a sausage. Pretty chintz curtains deterred any cold air from sneaking through a loose windowpane, and if the stone floor of the cottage did reflect the cold, the effect was muted by brightly-coloured rugs strewn about its surface.

  The couple seated on either side of the well-scrubbed table were picked out in the spotlight from the lantern that flickered from the beam over their bent heads. They said little as they consumed their evening meal. Only the snapping of the fire and the clink of cutlery on china broke the silence.

  Erin’s head came up suddenly from the meal she had been making a pretence of eating, instantly alert. ‘Is that Belle crying?’

  ‘I didn’t hear nowt,’ said Sam, enjoying his mutton. ‘Get on wi’ your meal, lass.’

  ‘I’d better just go…’ She began to rise.

  ‘Sit down. ’S probably only t’pup wanting to be where it’s warm. He’ll have to learn his place.’ The bitch had recently had a litter. Sam had kept one dog for himself to help its mother with the herd. ‘Come on, get your tea afore it’s cold.’ He watched her push the pieces of meat aimlessly around her plate. She was still listening. ‘Erin, for Heaven’s sake! You’re gonna waste away if you go on like this.’ Not once since leaving her parents’ house had she enjoyed a proper meal, always preoccupied, waiting for Belle to cry so she could jump up and answer the summons. God only knew how she performed when he wasn’t here to keep her in check. ‘Doesn’t she cry enough without you imagining it?’

  ‘But I’m sure it was her. Let me go up and see, Sam. I couldn’t sit here and eat knowing she was crying with hunger.’

  Sam shook his head wearily, but allowed her to go. Hunger indeed. Belle would never know real hunger, not like her grandparents had. The minute her mouth opened in a demanding squall Erin was there to shove herself into it. That was all she seemed to live for nowadays, to see to Belle’s constant needs. The thought was not without resentment. It had taken Sam years to win his wife’s whole-hearted attention, and now Belle had arrived the nights of abstinence had begun again.

  She returned from her sortie, slipping wordlessly back into her seat.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you it was the dog?’ he said peevishly. ‘Now sit down an’ don’t budge till you’ve eaten that meal.’

  ‘It’s cold.’ She pushed away the plate.

  He pushed it back. ‘Cold or no, you’ll eat it. I’m damned sick of all this, Erin.’

  His strict tone pierced her befogged state. ‘All what?’

  ‘You know bloody-well all what. All this toing an’ froing, never sitting still for five minutes. A man expects his wife’s attention when he comes in after a hard day’s work. All I get is Belle this, Belle that…’

  ‘Sam!’ she cried accusingly. ‘She’s your daughter.’

  ‘An’ I’m your husband, Erin. Oh, don’t give me those eyes. Just because I say these things doesn’t mean I love her any less. I’m just getting damned sick of her getting all the treatment.’

  ‘Of all the selfish… she’s a helpless little child, Sam. You’re a man, easily capable of taking care of yourself.’

  ‘That’s just as well, isn’t it? ’Cause that’s what I’ve been forced to do these past months.’

  ‘Don’t exaggerate,’ reproved Erin. ‘I’m always here when you get in, aren’t I?’

  ‘Are you?’ he demanded. ‘You’re sat at the table, yes, but your mind is miles away. If I get as much as half a dozen words from you before we go to bed I count meself lucky. It’s as if I’m not here. Your whole world is focused on Belle. Instead of her fitting into our lives we have to fit into hers. She rules us, night and day. Look at the state she’s got you into. Just look at yourself! I’ve seen more flesh on a pauper’s dog. You must stop allowin’ her to interrupt your meals. I won’t stand by an’ see you waste away, watch you treating her like… like…’

  ‘Like a baby?’ enquired Erin hotly.

  ‘Erin, I wouldn’t mind if you did treat her like a baby, but you don’t. You wouldn’t allow a normal baby to dictate to you like she does. You’d simply put it to your breast when it needed feedin’ then tuck it up in its cradle an’ that would be that.’

  ‘I thought you’d noticed, Sam, Belle isn’t a normal baby.’ Her fork stabbed pettishly at bits of meat.

  ‘An’ scant chance she has of becoming a normal adult the way you treat her. You’re moulding yourself a tyrant. She can’t be allowed to go through life thinking all she has to do is ask an’ whatever she wants will be given.’

  Erin tried to draw on his sympathy, her voice wheedling. ‘I can’t deny her, Sam. She’s such a helpless little scrap. I’m responsible for her.’

  ‘An’ so am I – as I’m responsible for you, an
’ I won’t allow this to continue. Now, you’ll sit there until that plate is clean an’ if Belle cries then she must learn to wait her turn.’

  Defeated, Erin closed her eyes to the congealing fat and forced a morsel of mutton between her lips. She didn’t seem to have any appetite lately, which was surprising for she was run off her feet for most of the day. Night too, sometimes, for Belle still demanded a midnight feast. That wouldn’t be for much longer, though. Erin’s breasts no longer tingled with milk at the baby’s first whimper. She knew she was going dry. Sam was right, she must eat for Belle’s sake. She gagged on the half-chewed meat as her gullet unwillingly accepted it, then scraped up a forkful of mashed potato.

  ‘Don’t look at it – eat it,’ commanded her husband.

  It could have been a mouthful of cottonwool for all Erin tasted of it. The fork paused again. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you, Sam,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ll try to be more dutiful when you come home tomorrow.’

  There was indignation. ‘I don’t want you doing owt out o’ duty, but because you want to do it.’ He reached across the table for her hand. ‘I’m not just sayin’ it outa selfishness, love. You do understand that I’m saying it for all our sakes? You won’t be no good to neither me nor Belle if you wear yourself away worryin’.’

  ‘Oh, I know you aren’t a selfish man, Sam, but… I can’t help myself… whenever she cries I have to go to her. I just can’t sit here stuffing food into myself knowing she’s crying her heart out upstairs.’

  ‘But she can’t be hungry all the time, Erin. Mostly she’s just crying for attention.’ Going back to his meal he was thoughtful for a while, ploughing through the heaped plate. Then he paused again to voice his idea. ‘I don’t suppose she’s bothered whose attention it is she gets. Tell you what, I’ll take her out wi’ me tomorrow, that ought to give thee a rest.’

  Erin’s face showed doubt. ‘It’s too cold – an’ what if she should need changing? What if she’s hungry? Still,’ she mulled it over, ‘I suppose I could meet you at feeding time…’