Erin’s Child

by Erin's Child (retail) (epub)

  Liam, who had seen Patrick and Thomasin from his study window and had come to join them on the church steps, remarked on her doleful expression. ‘I see Father Gilchrist has had the old whip cracking again. What did he give ye, a hundred rosaries?’

  ‘Nothing so steep,’ replied Erin, hushing the baby.

  ‘But steep enough, judging by the change in your disposition,’ said her father. ‘Are ye feeling all right, muirnin? Ye’re not sick, are ye?’

  ‘No, no, I’m perfectly well.’ Erin began to get testy with the child. ‘Oh, do shut up, Belle, will ye!’ Instantly she burst into tears.

  ‘What the devil has the man been saying to ye?’ demanded Liam as they all crowded round her. ‘Here, fetch her over to the house, Pat. We’ll get to the bottom o’ this.’

  With Sam and Patrick’s support Erin steered her feet to Liam’s house, Thomasin bringing up the rear carrying Belle. Father Kelly ushered them into the drawing room where a raging fire crackled and ordered his housekeeper to fetch a tray of tea.

  ‘Now then, we’ll be knowing what all this is about.’

  ‘’Tis nothing. I cry at the drop of a hat these days. I’m all right now.’ The combination of cool weather, hot fire and tears had produced a stream from Erin’s nose. She blew it noisily then put away her handkerchief and started to rise.

  Liam put a hand to her shoulder. ‘You’re forgetting, this is the man who gave ye your first set o’ rosary beads. I can tell there’s more to it than you’re letting on. An’ if I didn’t know you I do know Father Gilchrist. Now, what did he say that’s upset ye so?’

  ‘Nothing really… he only supported the view that I held when I went into the confessional… that I’m responsible for Belle’s affliction.’

  There was chorused outrage. ‘Eh, I’ve never heard owt so daft!’ exclaimed Thomasin. ‘And just how are you supposed to be responsible?’

  ‘Father Gilchrist agrees with me that it’s some sin I’ve committed that’s brought this about.’

  ‘God, the man wants locking up,’ breathed Liam, then sat himself next to Erin and took hold of both her hands. ‘Child, child! If I believed all he told me about meself I’d be dancing with Old Nick by now. The man’s a fanatic. He’s never happy but when he’s telling someone how wicked they are. It makes him feel the holier, d’ye see?’ What a terrible shock for a poor girl who had gone into the confessional for comfort and Absolution to come across a woman-hater like Gilchrist. ‘Erin, would ye agree that I’ve been in the business longer than Father Gilchrist?’ She nodded, sniffing. ‘An’ wouldn’t ye say that I’ve more experience in interpreting Our Lord’s teachings – if that doesn’t sound too arrogant?’

  ‘That’s what he said about me.’ Erin drew in a shaky breath, tasting salt. ‘That I was too arrogant.’

  ‘God, the man’s an eejit,’ said Pat, thinking of all the things Erin had done for both her parents as a young girl; the sacrifices she had made. ‘There’s no one more selfless than you. He’s bloody mad.’

  ‘I’ll endorse that,’ said Liam. ‘At least where dealing with my parishioners is concerned. He’s not such an eejit when it comes to ousting a fellow from his post. ’Tis a pretty good job he’s made of blackening my character with the Bishop. Erin, I’d have ye know what sort o’ fella we’re dealing with before ye give credence to his homily. Far be it from me to cast the first stone – but I will, since he’s been in the habit of slinging half bricks in my direction. There’s not a week gone by without that man upsetting one o’ my people. Poor Mrs Cahill – I’m not breaking any confidence now, poor soul – she came to him ’cause she’d fallen for another bairn an’ her with twelve already. She wanted him to tell her husband to curb his appetite for a while – I’d’ve stuck my boot up the man’s backside – but did he? He did not. He told her that it was woman’s lot in life, that it was her fault for leading her old man on with the temptation that was Eve’s. Damned fool. It happened while I was away, summoned before the Bishop and told to be a good boy or else. I didn’t know anything about it till I picked up the paper the following week. The poor woman took her own life. Jumped off the top o’ the Minster. Six lines, that’s all she was worth. Six lines in a newspaper and instantly forgettable. And when I confronted him with the article, “Oh, yes,” says he, calmly as ye please. “I knew the woman. Told her only last week that her sinful ways would bring about her downfall and I was right, wasn’t I?” God forgive me, I could’ve cheerfully chucked him off the top o’ the Minster. Only conscience made me suffice with a few harsh words. And was he repentant? Not he! Quite ruffled, in fact. He trotted straight back to the Bishop an’ told him all I’d said, adding a bit of his unique kind of embroidery for luck. Once again I was hauled over the coals to explain my inexcusable behaviour.’

  ‘An’ that’s why he was taking Mass this morning while you’re not,’ said Patrick.

  ‘Correct. At first it’d be, “Oh, Father Kelly, I think it would be a good idea if Father Gilchrist took Mass today, just so’s he can gain a little experience”. I’m lucky if I’m allowed to take Mass once a week now, and definitely not on Sundays when all the nobs are there – all the money. The Bish doesn’t mind losing one or two of his flock as long as they’re not the paying kind.’ He shook his head. ‘God, I’m getting an uncharitable devil in me old age. It might be true o’ Father Gilchrist but my Lord Bishop is a good man really. He just listens to too much gossip. So, most of the time I’m sat here twiddling my thumbs, unless Father Gilchrist has any dirty jobs he wants doing. That’s the sort o’ man he is, Erin. Oh, I wish ye’d’ve come to your old friend instead o’ him. I could’ve put your mind at ease right away.’ He stroked her hand. ‘Never mind, ’tis not too late to put things right. Ah, here’s Mrs Lucas with the tea. Thank ye, Mrs Lucas, I’ll ring if we need anything else.’ He waited for the woman to leave, raising and lowering his cup before speaking again. ‘Now, Mrs Teale, ye won’t be surprised to hear that I hold an entirely different point of view on Belle’s condition. Unlike Father G. I see her arrival not as a sign of God’s disapproval but as a blessing, an act of His confidence in your faith. From time to time He sets tests for us who see ourselves as true Christians. Some of us turn out to be not so righteous after all, while some win through with flying colours. I’ll endorse His confidence in you, Erin, an’ say that I think you’re one o’ the latter. Despite what’s been said to ye today, you’re not the type to sit moping and wondering why this terrible thing has happened to you. If perhaps ye feel that way at the moment ’tis only because ye’ve not been a mother for very long. It takes time to get back to your old vitality – sure look at me after I’d had the twins.’ He joined Erin’s chuckle. ‘There, that’s better. I’m sure you’re going to prove Father Gilchrist wrong an’ God right. You’re going to make something out of this child, Erin. Nobody expects ye to do it alone. Ye’ve a good man in Sam, an’ all of us here today are going to help ye, aren’t we?’ There were murmurs of confirmation. ‘So forget whatever the man told ye and listen to an old hand. Stop holding yourself responsible for something ye had no say in. If there’s guilt to be apportioned it should be attached to people like Father G.’

  After his friends had gone home to breakfast, Liam put on a determined face and went over to the church. Confession was still in progress. Another sinner was about to slip into the box, but Liam placed a delaying hand on his shoulder and, motioning the man back to his seat, took his place in the confessional. His lips enunciated into the grill. ‘Father Gilchrist, I have a message from your Employer.’

  ‘Who is this?’ A dissected face tried to guess the identity of the speaker but Liam pressed himself into a corner. ‘He says, are ye trying to do Him out of a job, too?’

  ‘If this is some sort of joke…’

  ‘Oh, ’tis no joke. He’s awful miffed about it. He doesn’t care for these impersonations ye’ve been doing of Him. Says ye’ve not captured Him at all.’

  ‘Who is this?’ demanded Father Gilchrist.
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  ‘Oh, ’tis just one of His humble messengers come to give ye a few pointers on your act.’

  ‘This is outrageous!’ Father Gilchrist stormed out of his half of the confessional to confront his tormentor and found Liam sitting there calmly, arms crossed and a dangerous glint in his eye. ‘Father Kelly!’ came the amazed hiss. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

  ‘I’ll tell ye what the meaning is.’ Liam rose to his feet. ‘I’ve just spent fifteen heartrending minutes trying to convince a dear friend o’ mine that what ye told her was a load of horsemuck.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘’Tis her pardon ye should be begging,’ said Liam. ‘Heartbroken, she was. As if she hasn’t a big enough cross to bear with her half-formed child without you driving the nails in deeper.’

  ‘Ah, you refer to the woman to whom I have just given penance.’

  ‘A totally unjust penance in my view.’

  ‘Father Kelly, if you insist on taking umbrage every time one of your parishioners dislikes the penance I’ve meted out then I shall…’

  ‘You’ll what? Leave the job to me? Good, I’d be most gratified.’

  ‘I was going to say I shall have to have a word with the Bishop about our disagreement.’

  ‘Another one? Sure, you’re not one to use words sparingly, are ye, Father? Nor kindly neither, judging by what ye just said to my friend.’

  ‘Father, the woman had not been to Confession in three months. You surely do not expect me to condone that? It’s my duty as a priest to uphold the teachings of the church.’

  ‘Is it also your duty to tell a woman that she’s responsible for the malformation of her baby?’ demanded Liam.

  ‘Father, kindly lower your voice. This is neither the time nor the place to discuss this matter.’ He glanced uneasily at the row of people waiting to confess, then began to move away. ‘We shall talk about this later.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Liam’s hand shot out. ‘Annoyed that I’ve foiled another suicide bid from the top o’ the Minster? A spectacular thought, isn’t it?’

  ‘That is unforgivable!’ accused Gilchrist.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ nodded Liam. ‘I apologise – but tell me, Father, why did ye say the wicked things ye did? There’s no knowing what the poor girl would’ve done if I hadn’t been there to talk her out of it.’

  ‘Wicked?’ There was genuine disbelief. ‘I didn’t consider them wicked but totally justified. I told her but the truth.’

  ‘The truth? Whose truth, Father?’

  Father Gilchrist grew impatient with the game. ‘I am simply a vessel for God’s ruling, as are you.’

  ‘So, it was God who told ye to say those things? Ye don’t think ye could’ve interpreted Him wrongly?’

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘Then ’tis a very different God that speaks to you from the one that instructs me, Father. The God I’m familiar with is one of love and forgiveness, support. Yours is one of vengeance.’

  ‘You verge on the blasphemous, Father Kelly. I would warn you, be very careful.’

  Liam ignored him. ‘Ye know what I think?’

  ‘What you think does not particularly interest me.’ But Father Gilchrist’s anger was not without its tinge of delight. The senile priest had finally stepped over the edge. Bishop French must surely have him replaced now.

  ‘No, I don’t suppose it does. You’re far too engrossed in yourself to heed anyone else’s opinion – including Our Lord’s. See, I don’t think it’s God who tells ye to say these things – you enjoy playing at God too much yourself to listen to what He has to say. Which brings us back to the original message I have for ye.’ Liam locked his hands behind his back and thrust out his chest. ‘Your impersonations of Him, impressive though they are, will never work. See, there’s one point where you and He vastly differ – you’re just too bloody holy.’

  Father Gilchrist’s legs almost buckled. The man was not only senile – he was insane. But Liam had not finished.

  ‘An’ let me tell ye another little thing before ye go running off to the Bishop. If ye don’t moderate your approach and treat my – or should I say your – parishioners like human beings instead of whipping boys, I am personally going to kick your holier than holy arse from here to Kingdom Come.’ With that he marched away, leaving a furious Father Gilchrist to vent his frustration on the row of penitents.

  Chapter Five

  By the time Belle attained her second year people had grown used to the sight of her accompanying her father to milking and the rude remarks which had plagued them for those first weeks had long since worn themselves into redundancy. Now, instead of sitting in the sling on his back she would travel on Sam’s shoulders, grasping two tight handfuls of his blond hair to steady herself. Possessed of the strikingly-blue eyes that ran through the family she would watch everything and everyone who passed, seemingly filing all this away in her pretty head. Folk would say, ‘Eh, she’s a canny lahl thing’ as she craned her neck to follow them past, and then, would invariably add, ‘Such a shame she’s crooked.’

  Erin would wave them off on a morning and welcome the couple of hours’ grace which enabled her to get the bulk of her work done before Belle’s demands recommenced. Although she was long past breast-feeding, the child still managed to run her mother off her feet. If anything, Belle was even more of a handful than she had been in babyhood. Despite the fact that she could not walk, just shuffle along in an ungainly, toadlike fashion on her bottom, she succeeded in getting into everything and anything. Erin’s nerves were constantly ajangle for fear of what the child might get up to next.

  An extra worry was Belle’s inability to talk. Even the simplest words escaped her. Erin would plant herself in front of the child and say, ‘Dada’ and ‘Mama’ and hold a biscuit tantalisingly out of reach. But no amount of bribery could coax one word from the obstinate Belle. At least she didn’t cry so much now. Erin supposed that was because she had discovered how to get about on her own and, prising open cupboard doors, could gorge herself on whatever she came across, so there was no need to cry for mama unless she particularly sought Erin’s attention. This wasn’t very often; as is sometimes the way of girls she preferred the company of her father.

  Erin was better in herself. Liam’s words of comfort that day had obviously sunk home. She was still more nervously disposed than she had formerly been, but that was to be expected with a child like Belle. Surprisingly, after what she had suffered at the hands of Father Gilchrist, she was still a regular attender at Mass. Less surprisingly, she had never visited the confessional since that day.

  Sam’s herd was doing marvellously. With excellent service from Judson’s pedigree bull there had been no stillbirths this year, and his expanding herd of Shorthorns had become the envy of many a neighbouring farmer. ‘That’s ’cause I treat ’em like ladies,’ Sam would tell them quite seriously.

  ‘He’s right there,’ Dobby would add. ‘He’s more in love wi’ them coos than that bonny wife of his. I’ll bet if I should peek in his bedchamber I’d find owd Daisy tucked up alongside him an’ his missus tethered out in t’barn.’

  If only they could be left to their own devices they would have the idyllic life Sam had always dreamt of, but unfortunately the short stays which they often enjoyed with Erin’s parents also took them into the company of Grandmother Fenton. Much as he liked to see Pat and Thomasin Sam always dreaded these visits for he knew they set Erin back to the post-natal days of melancholy. Hannah Fenton had always been this way, of course. But knowing this did not lift the veil of depression if it were your child she was pulling to pieces. The period from Friday afternoon when they usually arrived to the hour they left on Sunday was the most exacting test Sam’s patience had ever had to face.

  ‘I suppose I do have to go?’ he asked Erin hopefully, watching her make the kitchen tidy for her leave of absence. How quickly these ordeals came around.

  ‘Sure, isn’t that a fine thing to be asking?’ She used a cloth to
scoop crumbs from the table into her cupped palm. ‘I thought ye liked my mother and father.’

  ‘It weren’t them I were thinking about.’

  Erin showed her understanding. ‘Sure, I know well enough. I’d put a gag on Grandmother myself sometimes. But ye’ll not leave me to suffer it alone – Oh, s’truth, who’s that?’ Someone had knocked at the door. She opened it to four of the Johnson children, who were regular visitors – and what a pinched and poverty-stricken collection they were. Admitting them, she entreated Sam to go and get ready and resumed her hurried chore. When she turned, the children had moved to the fireside rug and Vicky was cuddling Belle. ‘Careful now. I wouldn’t really pick her up, she’s only small.’

  ‘I won’t drop her,’ replied the girl.

  ‘I’m sure ye wouldn’t, but best not.’ Erin rinsed the cloth and hung it out to dry.

  ‘Me mam’s gone out,’ Vicky informed her as she rushed back into the kitchen.

  ‘Has she? And Vicky – didn’t I say for you to put Belle down?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘’Cause I told ye to an’ don’t be so cheeky.’

  ‘Aye, she’s gone off to t’Bull,’ sighed Vicky, placing Belle on the rug.

  Erin knew from experience what these long sighs meant: there would be no lunch, probably no tea and possibly no supper either. Erin was quite willing to do her share of charity work, but wouldn’t you know they’d make their appearance just when she was wanting to be off. But one exasperated look at those undernourished faces told her she would get no peace if she slung them out. So, snatching up a loaf and a breadknife she hacked off four thick slices and threw them across the table to Vicky. ‘Here, put some butter on those – but then ye must be off or between you an’ Mr Teale I’ll not get to York by next Christmas.’

  ‘Haven’t you got any jam today then?’ asked one of the boys, watching her race back and forth. She paused only to glare at him. With a resigned air he accepted the bread-and-butter from his sister. After a moment his hand moved to the sticky purple stain which marked his trouser pocket and withdrawing a handful of crushed blackberries spread them over his bread.