Erin’s Child

by Erin's Child (retail) (epub)

  By now there were others on the bank who helped to drag the sodden young woman to safety and wrap the shivering children in blankets. Brian struck out again, risking his life by diving under in an effort to find May. But poor May was gone.

  Chapter Forty

  The telephone rang. Patrick crossed himself. ‘Holy Mary, that dratted thing! Making me spill good whiskey.’ He brushed the imaginary drops from his blue-serged knee.

  Erin’s eyes came up from the lace handkerchief she had been stitching. There was apprehension in them. ‘T’would be a good thing if it did,’ she murmured vaguely. Though this was the first one she had seen him take today she didn’t want this to be the start of another winter binge.

  He snorted. ‘Ye might as well’ve gone to the factory if all you’re going to do is lecture me. What’s up with ye, anyway?’ He was remarking on her strange manner.

  She forced her eyes from the door to focus on the handkerchief, working her needle into delicate stitches. ‘I’ve a feeling on me. I’ve not been able to concentrate for a week. Then this morning it was stronger.’ She stopped sewing. ‘’Twas as if something was physically restraining me from leavin’ the house. I just can’t settle. I’d be better at work, but…’ Her eyes met his.

  Unlike her late husband who might have said, ‘Eh, you and your feelings, Erin Teale,’ Patrick, ingrained with Celtic superstition, took her words seriously. Looking into her disturbed eyes he began to absorb the fear that haunted them.

  They were still looking at each other when the door opened and the manservant entered. Noiselessly closing the door he padded across the carpet to address Patrick. ‘Doctor Dyson is on the telephone, sir. He wishes to speak with you.’

  Patrick’s eyes, which had broken contact with Erin’s at the servant’s entry, now adhered to hers again, then slowly he rose and followed John who held the door open for him. The telephone receiver was balanced on top of the main unit attached to the wall. Hesitantly Patrick’s gnarled fingers gripped it and lifted it to his ear. He shouted into the box, ‘Hello! This is Patrick Feeney.’

  At the other end Brian moved his ear slightly away from the receiver. ‘Mr Feeney, I don’t wish to alarm you but I think you ought to know about Belle.’

  ‘What’s up?’ cried Patrick immediately. ‘What is it?’

  ‘She’s suffering from pneumonia, sir. I know I should’ve informed you much sooner but Belle wouldn’t allow…’

  ‘Pneumonia?!’

  Brian’s voice grew sombre. ‘Yes… and it’s getting worse. I’m very worried about her…’

  ‘I’m coming now!’ Patrick slammed down the receiver and returned as swiftly as he could to the drawing room, cursing himself for not visiting Belle lately.

  Erin, seeing the strain on his face, clutched the ruffle at her throat. ‘It’s Belle.’

  ‘It is – but don’t worry, we’ll soon have her right.’ He came quickly to her side. ‘Brian’s looking after her.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Pneumonia.’

  She clamped a hand to her mouth.

  ‘It may not be as bad as it sounds. I said I’d go…’

  ‘I’m coming with ye.’ She came alive.

  ‘Right, I’ll get John to fetch the carriage…’

  ‘No, there’s not enough time,’ said Erin flusteredly. ‘We’ll be quicker to get a cab the speed John works.’ Without a word to anyone they picked up their coats and hurried from the house. Luckily a cab happened to be dropping a passenger at The Black Swan as their eager footsteps pattered down the few steps from the front door. ‘Hey!’ Patrick stopped it from driving away and clutched Erin’s arm. Droplets of mud polka-dotted Erin’s skirts as her fast-moving feet took her to the carriage.

  ‘Get in, Father.’ She made to help him.

  ‘I’m not infirm yet,’ he said testily. ‘You get in.’

  She did as she was told and, with Patrick aboard, the cab pulled away. ‘Lawrence Street!’ shouted the old man to the cabbie. ‘Quick as ye can.’

  Slush spurted from the carriage wheels as it gathered motion and weaved in and out of the narrow streets. At one stage it almost knocked over a policeman and there were several minutes wasted while the cabbie earned a reprimand. It started moving again, Patrick and Erin rocking about inside, their faces stone-like with worry. The overcast sky blackened the interior of the cab, hiding their feelings. Neither spoke, but Erin found her father’s hand and he gripped it supportively.

  When they arrived Patrick tipped the cabbie for his inconvenience and followed Erin into the house.

  ‘Where is she?’ asked Erin immediately they came upon Brian.

  ‘She’s upstairs – but she’s not herself, Mrs Teale!’ The spectacles in his hand paused in mid-air as Erin ignored his warning and flew up the staircase. Donning his glasses he pursued her, signalling to Patrick. ‘I hope she doesn’t wake her. The poor girl’s just nicely gone off after hours of insomnia.’

  When they reached the bedroom Erin was kneeling by her daughter’s bedside, smoothing the glistening brow. ‘Belle, oh, Belle.’

  Brian beseeched her to lower her voice, then allowed Patrick to move in beside his grand-daughter. ‘She’s in a critical period. That’s why I rang…’

  He inwardly collapsed as Belle seemed about to emerge from her precious sleep.

  ‘But how long’s she been like this?’ demanded Erin. ‘An’ why have ye waited till now?’

  ‘’Tis not his fault,’ soothed her father. ‘Sure, ye know how independent Belle is.’ He turned to Brian. ‘What’s being done for her?’

  ‘All that can be. My senior partner’s treating her. He’s a fine doctor, Mrs Teale, he’s doing absolutely everything – as we all are. It’s just a matter of waiting.’

  ‘For what?’ Erin’s eyes were fearful.

  Brian shrugged helplessly. He had sat with her for the last two nights, listening to her wheezing breath, watching her get progressively worse and kicking himself for not recognising her illness earlier. The strain showed in the deep lines that ran from his nose to the corners of his mouth, the black circles beneath the eyes and the stubble on his chin.

  Grim-faced, Patrick pulled up a chair for Erin, then found another for himself, positioning it on the other side of the bed. ‘How’d she get like this, Bri?’

  The young doctor perched on the end of the bed and stared at the clammy face on the pillow. ‘It started innocently enough, might not have even come to this, but…’ He decided to tell them the full tale. ‘The children went ice-skating – Belle had warned them not to but they disobeyed her. When she found out she went after them. The ice broke and the children fell in.’ Both Patrick and his daughter made sounds of concern. ‘I’d been doing my rounds which took me by the river. When I got to her she was stretched out on the ice pulling the children from the water. Honestly, Mrs Teale, she was marvellous… but then the ice beneath her gave way.’ Erin gave another exclamation. ‘I managed to get her out… but we lost one of the children – young May.’

  Patrick crossed himself. ‘I’ll never understand God if I live to be a thousand. Why does it always have to be the young’ns?’

  Brian said nothing of May yet, still referring to Belle. ‘Well, you know what she’s like, she wouldn’t stay in bed, had to see to the children she said. It wouldn’t have been so bad perhaps if she’d stayed in the house, but she was back and forth to the police station to ask if they’d found May’s body… I said I’d see to everything, but would she listen?’ He became angry. ‘Really, Mrs Teale, you have the most awkward pig-headed daughter…’ Rising from the bed he thrust his hands deep into his pockets and glared at Belle whose head now moved from side to side, muttering deliriously.

  ‘Don’t need… go ’way…’

  ‘It’s all right, dear.’ Erin removed the cloth from her daughter’s brow, dipped it into the bowl of water on the bedside table, wrung it out and mopped the fevered brow. ‘Mother’s here… don’t talk, just rest an’ get well.’ S
he looked up at Brian. ‘Isn’t there anything else ye can do?’

  He shook his head. ‘I wanted to tell you before it got this bad, if only that her family should know what a heroine she’d been. But she wouldn’t hear of it, said I wasn’t to upset you about May.’

  ‘How long will it last?’

  ‘Well… she may be out of it by morning.’ But which way out? Oh, God…

  Patrick noted the man’s fatigue. ‘Why don’t ye go home an’ catch a few winks, Doctor? Me an’ her mother will stay an’ look after her.’

  ‘No, I’m staying,’ replied Brian firmly.

  ‘Then take a nap in one o’ the children’s rooms,’ begged Patrick. ‘Ye’ll be no good to Belle without all your faculties.’

  The young man sighed. ‘If I was in possession of those she wouldn’t be lying here now. I should’ve forbidden her to go out in the condition she was in.’

  ‘Like ye said yourself, she’s an independent hussy.’ Patrick rubbed a hand over his mouth, experiencing a sudden dryness. ‘I don’t suppose ye’ve a drop o’ whiskey in the house, Bri?’ There came an apology. ‘Ah, never mind. You go on an’ take that nap.’

  ‘You’ll wake me if vou’re at all concerned?’

  ‘We will.’

  Brian rubbed his hands over his face, then pulled a watch from his pocket. ‘I should really be at evening surgery… but I’m not leaving her.’ He turned wearily from the bed and went to the room next door where he flopped his head onto the pillow and allowed his consciousness to slip away.

  Supported by endless cups of tea brought in by Sally, the old Irishman and his daughter played sentinel to the sick girl until it grew dark. ‘I’ll never forgive myself for this,’ murmured Erin, voice almost inaudible. ‘Never. If I’d allowed her to do as she pleased she might never’ve left home an’ all this would not have happened.’

  ‘Might’s a fragile condition,’ replied Patrick, entertaining the sudden thought that he hadn’t had a drink for five hours and could do with one badly. ‘Ye can’t stop your children living their own lives for fear that they might get hurt. Ye could wrap them in cottonwool all their days an’ wake up one morning to find they’d suffocated on the fluff. Ye just have to let them get on with it. Sam’d tell ye that if he was here.’

  Erin wrung out the cloth once more and laid it across Belle’s tossing head. ‘I still think she’s wasted it, ye know, Dad. She’s so clever… she could’ve really made something of herself.’ Her teeth clamped down on her lip and tears formed. ‘Why does everything have to happen to my child?’ She collapsed sobbing while Patrick leaned over the fretful girl on the bed to pat his daughter comfortingly.

  ‘She’ll come through, Erin lass, don’t distress yourself.’ But would she? Was he going to lose another precious grandchild? I can’t bear this, he shrivelled within himself. God, I wish I had a drink.

  In time the woman sat up and, breathing deeply, wiped her eyes. ‘I suppose we should send for the priest…’ Her red eyes met Patrick’s and she knew he shared the thought that was in her own head: Father Gilchrist was the last person on earth they wanted to see at this time. If only Liam were here.

  Patrick rose creakily. ‘I’ll see if I can get hold o’ the priest from St George’s. Sure, ’tis nearer to home anyway.’

  His exit was simultaneous with Brian’s awakening. The doctor yawned, stretched, tasted his tongue and pulled a face. When his glued-up eyes finally came open he picked up the watch on the bedside table and squinted at it. With a groan he rolled off the bed, lifted his leg to straighten his trouser bottoms, then splashed some water on his face at the washstand. After mopping it dry he combed his hair with his fingers and went to check on Belle. Erin glanced up as the rumpled physician came in rubbing at his itchy eyes. ‘No change?’

  She shook her head.

  He occupied Patrick’s still-warm chair and, lifting the cloth, placed a hand to Belle’s forehead, allowing his fingers to trail her cheek before pulling it back. ‘Why don’t you go down for a bit? Have something to eat.’

  ‘I don’t feel like anything. Anyway, I’d rather stay.’

  ‘She’s not going anywhere. Go on, just for five minutes. You may have to take over from me when I disintegrate again.’

  ‘Well… I could do to stretch me legs.’ Erin began to shove back the chair. ‘Ye’ll call me… ?’ At Brian’s nod she left the room and went downstairs.

  The scene she came upon caused her to hang about uncertainly in the doorway. The children were grouped around the dancing fire, some with cups of cocoa, others with opened books on their laps. The little girls had rags in their hair, the boys were smoothed and curried. All were properly clad in their night attire, save one whose nightgown began at the waist, the redundant sleeves tied around his midriff to stop it falling down. Samuel wiped away a moustache of cocoa and feeling eyes upon him looked to the door. ‘Who’re you?’

  Erin only half-emerged from her suspension. She managed to answer, ‘I’m Mrs Teale,’ but her eyes refused to leave the vivid scar that completely obscured the left breast.

  ‘Samuel, don’t be so rude,’ rebuked Cicely, and to Erin, ‘You must excuse him. He hasn’t yet learnt his manners. I have, though.’ Standing, she went to fetch a chair and manhandled it into the circle. ‘Do please sit down.’

  Sitting now, Erin found her eyes kept straying to the disfigured boy. ‘You’ll have to excuse his state of undress,’ said Cicely. ‘But, you see it’s a bit sore if he wears anything up top. You live at Mr Feeney’s house, don’t you?’ Erin nodded.

  Sam wished the woman would stop staring at him. He played with his bare toes, hoping to distract her, and was thankful when Eddie asked, ‘Would you like me to read to you?’ He flourished a book. ‘Aunt Belle usually reads us a bedtime story but she’s ill at the moment,’

  ‘I know,’ said Erin softly. ‘I’m Belle’s mother.’

  This generated great interest. ‘Are you really? I didn’t know Aunt Belle had a mother.’ Erin flinched, but then how would they know when she had always avoided them during their time spent at Peasholme Green. ‘You’re not alike, are you?’ The child was examining her for lumps.

  At that point Sally came in and warned, ‘Oy, don’t you be pestering Mrs Teale. She’s tired. She doesn’t want to be harried by you lot.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Erin, gratefully accepting the offer of cocoa from the nursemaid. ‘Eddie, is it? Eddie was just going to read for me, weren’t ye?’ She held out her hand. ‘What book d’ye have?’

  ‘It’s not a storybook. It’s French.’ Eddie clambered to his bare feet and came to stand at her knee. ‘I’ve been practising because I’m not very good. Aunt Belle says she’s almost reached the end of her tether. Doctor Brian says perhaps if I practise very hard it’ll make Aunt Belle get better. D’you think it will?’

  Erin nodded to his earnest little face. ‘I’m sure the doctor’s right. Let me hear ye an’ see how well ye’ve practised.’ She glanced down once again at Sam who immediately dropped his face. I must stop this, thought the woman, I’m embarrassing the poor child.

  ‘Dans le jardin il y a un chat. Il est noir…’ Eddie’s finger traced each sentence as he recited in monotone.

  ‘That was excellent,’ praised Erin when he had finished. ‘I’m sure your Aunt Belle will feel better straight away when she hears that.’ God, they’ve even got me doing it now, she thought with a twinge on hearing her own lips bestow the title on her daughter. She sat with them for more than the five minutes she had originally allocated herself, holding conversation with each of them – apart from Sam, the person she wanted to know about most, but who volunteered no information except to say, when she finally asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, ‘I’d like to be a teacher.’

  ‘That’s very ambitious,’ replied Erin with interest.

  ‘Aunt Belle says I have it in me.’

  ‘An’ does Aunt Belle work ye very hard?’

  He nodded. ‘But her lessons are
more interesting than at school. I wish I could keep having my lessons here when I go home.’

  Erin showed surprise. ‘Oh, ye aren’t here for good, then?’

  ‘No, I’ve two months and ten days to go.’ That made it sound as if he had been marking it off like a prisoner serving a sentence, which was only slightly true. Samuel’s time here was not unpleasant now that he had really got to know the residents, but he did miss his mother. This he told Erin, and: ‘I’m only here to give her a rest, you see.’

  Erin’s incomprehension must have shown, for when Samuel’s head bowed under her scrutiny Cicely piped up, ‘Sam’s mother burnt his chest – but she didn’t mean to. So he’s come to stay with us for a little holiday, haven’t you, Sam?’ The other nodded. ‘He’s almost better now. Doctor Brian’s been putting some special ointment on him. It’s not half so bad as it was.’

  Erin suddenly realised that her mouth had fallen open and made a conscious effort to hide her horror at the matter-of-fact explanation for the boy’s terrible injury. ‘An’ ye’ll be glad to go home?’ she asked Sam tentatively.

  ‘Of course.’ Sam looked at her as if she was half-mad, then smiled cheerfully. ‘Mother’s coming to see me next week. I’ll be able to show her how clever I’m getting.’

  Anna pursed her lips, then called, ‘Sally, you’re going to need more stitches on the hat you’re knitting for Sam.’

  Eddie spoke. ‘Do you think Aunt Belle knows it wasn’t our fault? We didn’t know she’d told May the ice was dangerous. I’m glad May drowned, it serves her right.’

  Erin was shocked. ‘Oh no, Eddie, ye must never say that, however much ye think a person might deserve it. May was obviously foolish but no one should have to die simply for being a fool. We all make fools of ourselves at some time in our lives, but not all of us have to pay for it so cruelly. Ye mustn’t blame her for what happened. Your Aunt Belle would be very sad.’ She finished her cocoa and rose.