The Healer

by Thompson, Sharon

  ‘Do you want every man and woman in the country coming here for her healing?’ Daddy’s by the table, the chair is rattling. He sits with a big sigh. ‘But you’re right she needs to start earning or doing something.’

  ‘The turf shed out to the side of the house could be her healing place. There’ll be no-one in the house then. We’ll clear her a spot and see how it goes.’

  Daddy must be agreeing, as she stops at the talking. I smell the stew she’s good at making. She kicks the bed on the way past to tell me the food is ready. I’m not afraid of eating her food, but I do find it hard to eat when she’s beside me slopping hers into her. Her air is so twisted. It is like Mammy’s. There’s no healing to be done on it and that breaks me a bit inside every day.

  ‘It is Saturday tomorrow and the doctor came to the train station, saying his bit. He won’t be taking the excuse that you’re away with Bredagh again.’

  Bredagh snorts and sits up all tall in her chair. ‘He has some neck on him! All high and fucking mighty! Stealing your son and telling you then that he must see your daughter every week! The cheek of the bastard.’

  Even Daddy is shocked at her cursing. ‘It was you who said you couldn’t care for another baby, or wouldn’t look after it and sure I’ve to go to work. They have their reasons for taking him and I don’t want to hear about it all when I'm at my dinner.’

  The silence from her is welcome.

  ‘Be ready to go visiting this Saturday and tell him nothing,’ Daddy pokes my sleeve with his knife. ‘Tell him nothing now, Molly. He’s threatening all sorts, so he is. And men like him are dangerous. Think they know things about people, when they’ve no clue at all. You stay quiet, cause you’ve to come home and live here. I won’t take a man like that knowing my business. He’s feeling guilty that he won’t take you on as well. They don’t want a halfwit about them and that’s the truth. But their conscience is bothering them. We’ll use that moral nonsense in their heads and work them right. Do you hear me?’

  I nod thinking Bredagh and Mammy have worked their badness into Daddy more and more, or maybe it does come out of the walls?

  ‘We need more money to better ourselves. Bredagh and I are thinking of marrying. We’ll be a family again then. They’ll have no right to nothing and not be able to say things about us.’

  I drop my fork to the plate and look at him. His baldness is complete now as Bredagh has shaved his head.

  ‘I’ll not want babies,’ Bredagh says, but I’m still staring at Daddy. ‘None at all,’ Bredagh shouts. ‘I’ll take no chances on them being like this one. I’ve had enough boys. I’m not taking that Jude back either. Nancy’s boy or not, I’m done with babies.’

  ‘I’ll not have to heal your mickey then,’ I say at Daddy, but he’s up and has me by the throat and off the chair. My feet dangle. I can’t say another word. His blue eyes pierce into me to stay quiet and he loosens his grip. Hull growls loudly. Daddy lets me down gently onto the chair.

  ‘What did she say?’ the witch asks. ‘What’s all that about? What did she say?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing at all. Vincent should be here before long,’ Daddy says starting to eat again. ‘I told him I’d go to the village with him for a pint.’

  Mammy would’ve hit the roof but if Bredagh wants to keep this roof, she can’t go hitting it. Hull’s nose touches off my hand telling me that he’ll not let anyone hurt me ever again.

  14

  Vincent hasn’t changed. From the gap in the curtain on my settle-bed I can see him sitting at the table and winking at Aunt Bredagh as she pours him tea. His hip flask is silver now. He screws the cap off and on, like lightning. His large hands circle the china cup and his nose is huge over his moustached lip.

  ‘You’re as handsome as ever,’ Bredagh coos at him. I suppose the eyes of him are bluer than Daddy’s and he has lots of dark hair curls that she ruffles. ‘Could you give some of them looks to Michael there?’

  Daddy doesn’t seem to mind that Vincent pulls her onto his lap. The laughs of her are fierce as she jokes about having the two McCarthy brothers for herself. She can have Vincent, but Daddy’s mine.

  I decide then and there that I will kill her. My soul hurts from killing Mammy, but the thought of Bredagh being gone would be worth the guilty suffering.

  ‘And the doctor’s coming to take the halfwit to visit the baby?’ Vincent says and lets Bredagh off his knee with a slap at her arse.

  ‘Don’t talk. That fucker thinks we are shit on his shoe.’

  The cursing of her is terrible and on she rants. Vincent laughs at her and they talk on about a doctor’s wife needing to steal children from good folks. And about how I’m going to be such a disappointment to the Bradys.

  Hull is beside me all warm and cosy. I love the smell of him as I lean back against his body and try to not hear them any more. Suddenly the curtain gets pulled back and there’s Vincent. Hull gets up on his paws and it makes Vincent walk back a few paces. ‘When did she get that?’

  ‘Don’t talk!’ Bredagh is on her feet and she squints in at me and my Hull. ‘Doctor gave it to her and will pay to feed it. Huh! He fecking better give you money in the morning, missie, or I’ll poison that pup.’

  I point at her and hiss like a cat.

  ‘She’s still touched then?’ Vincent asks. ‘Still no better?’

  ‘Worse!’ the witch says. ‘Let’s hope she behaves tomorrow or there’ll be no doctor, no money, and no visits.’

  Vincent winks down at me and smiles. My back gets a chill. The shadows urge Hull to growl and show his sharp teeth. I freeze to the spot. Vincent always manages to make me cold to the bone. ‘You’re getting prettier though, Molly,’ he says. ‘Growing up and you’re clean? Look how fancy you look. I’ve more clothes for you all the way from Dublin. We’ll give you nicer things than that doctor fellow.’

  Hull growls a bit louder and I don’t make him stop.

  ‘That’s one scary mutt to be sleeping with a child,’ Vincent says, sitting back down at the table.

  ‘Michael won’t do anything about it. Says it keeps her quiet. And it does. She hardly comes out of that smelly bed and it suits me fine. I’ve work to be doing. I can’t be bothered with her or that f-ing dog!’

  ‘You’re a fine woman, Bredagh,’ Vincent says.

  Daddy puts something on the fire and looks in at me. The eyes in his head are sad and full of pity and shame. How can he be so different from one minute to the next? There now, he is my daddy. He’s not the man who held me by the throat and almost squeezed the breath out of me. There bending to add fuel to the fire, he is my daddy who loves me, but in the blink he’s gone again and laughing at some awful joke of Vincent’s and ignoring me again.

  I can’t pull the curtain as I just can’t get the courage. Hull lies between me and them. I close my eyes and will the shadows to make it all hurry up to morning. They’re drinking now. I hear Bredagh suggesting the dog needs out as it’s farting.

  Daddy comes over and touches my foot and gives it a waggle. ‘Take him out,’ he says.

  We rush past Vincent and out into the cold night. The stars are spread out like a blanket over the sky. I ask them to go to sleep and make it morning. I want to see Jude and be in a nice house with walls that have goodness in them.

  15

  When I open the car door, the doctor throws a smile at me through his beard. His spectacles are on and he pushes them up on his lovely, long nose. Richard Brady is what a handsome man looks like. I settle into the seat with a yawn. Vincent’s snoring from one of the boy’s beds in the backroom kept me awake. I couldn’t settle at all, but I should have known that when he was sleeping he wouldn’t be panting at me in the darkness.

  I tried using my gifts from downstairs to make him die. I tried all night, but he’s still snoring when I’m getting ready for the doctor.

  Bredagh doesn’t want to be up, but she made me terrible porridge, saying, ‘I won’t have them making out you’re neglected and starved. Make su
re to ask him for money, now. God, the head on me is lifting with the horrors of the drink. That Vincent is a bad influence.’

  I hum to rid the memories of them from the car and the doctor asks, ‘Do you like music?’

  ‘I do.’

  He starts to sing. I haven’t heard a man’s singing voice before. Not one that sounds nice anyhow. Of course, the men roar out the songs when they’re drinking, but this tune is soft and wonderful. On and on he sings getting louder all the time. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t join in. The shadows poke me to try to sing but I don’t and he stops.

  ‘Keep singing please,’ I say from the back. He glances at me in the mirror and smiles. His voice is just like… sweets.

  ‘She likes my singing,’ he says to Violet when she greets us at the car. ‘And she wasn’t sick. Look at Hull, he’s grown in the few weeks and is well behaved.’

  Violet holds my arm and pats it a few times. She rubs Hull’s head but I can’t look into her eyes. She’s so lovely, I might cry.

  ‘Jude is doing so well,’ she tells me as she takes me into their lovely home. ‘We’re so glad you’re here. Would you like some food? Are you hungry?’

  In the kitchen, they both watch me eat. I try to do the ‘manners’ that they might like. Small Jane O’Shea is all delighted to see me too. I’m hopping inside with joy but don’t know how to show it. I don’t want to start snivellin’ and cryin’ into her nice tea and bread with dripping.

  ‘Bredagh says that we need money for Hull’s food,’ I tell them all. ‘Please?’

  Violet is back in the room with Jude in her arms and the doctor nods his handsome face. ‘They don’t starve me, though. I am well fed. Sometimes, though, I can’t eat as their badness makes things stick here.’ I point to my throat. Jane makes a noise while the doctor nods. ‘Sorry,’ I mutter at them, because I am sorry.

  ‘Don’t apologise, Molly. You can say what you need to here.’ Dr Brady is a fine, tall man. I wonder, should I tell him that I love him?

  Jane nods at me and wipes a tear from her freckled cheek. ‘This is your safe place, Molly pet. When you come here you can be happy… I hope.’

  ‘These are the better times. The angels promised me some of these.’

  Jane whirls around and mutters something to Violet that sounds like, ‘She’d break your heart that child.’

  Violet presents Jude to me, like he’s a gift. I take him into my arms. There’s no way to say how perfect he is; the lovely light weight of him, the softness of his blanket or the lovely sight of his wide, dark eyes and button nose. His lips are parted and they feel soft when I touch them. His cheek is like milk when I stroke it.

  ‘Isn’t he handsome?’ Violet says all proud, like she made him herself.

  ‘Yes, he’s like Mammy. But, I know his soul is good. His blood is flowing nice and he’s normal and healthy.’

  Jane makes another noise at the sink and mentions, ‘The whole place thinks you’re a healer. Is it true, Molly darling?’

  ‘Yes. Aunt Bredagh is setting me up like the doctor in the turf shed.’

  Jane grins. ‘Is she now?’

  ‘And she and Daddy are marrying.’ I sigh.

  ‘Doesn’t take them long to get things sorted, does it?’ Jane adds.

  ‘I think they aim to wait a bit,’ the doctor says, throwing his eyes to heaven. ‘Or so Michael told me when I suggested it was all less than proper.’

  Jane clears her throat and mutters, ‘That poor child and her mother hardly cold in her grave, and that aunt is some piece of work. I saw plenty of her at the wake.’

  ‘Do you know my Aunt Bredagh?’ I ask Jane’s back and the plain face turns to talk to me.

  ‘Not well, pet. I only know her to see. She’s your aunt. I shouldn’t say such things. I’m sorry.’

  No-one has ever apologised to me before! Not that I remember anyhow. I’m taken aback. My words get lost in my head with the shock of it.

  ‘Is she good to you?’ Violet asks me checking that Jude’s all right in my arms. ‘Are you happy that they might make a family for you?’

  ‘No,’ is all that I can manage.

  They let my tea go cold and allow me to hold on to the sleeping Jude for a long spell. They try to make out that they’re having a normal Saturday morning around me. I keep myself to myself and cuddle Jude. Hull lies by the range and stretches out. Jude doesn’t need any healing, but I whisper prayers over him to keep him safe and tell him that I love him more than life itself. I whisper, ‘I won’t die now because I’ve got you and Hull to love me.’

  ‘Can I stay here tonight?’ I ask out loud after a while. ‘Vincent is home from Dublin and he’s a no-good son-of-a-bitch.’

  The doctor chuckles but Violet takes Jude back off me in a hurry, ‘Such language! Don’t say that again, Molly, now. That’s terrible.’

  ‘He’s terrible!’ I tell the doctor.

  ‘When I’m on my rounds to see the lady at the big house, I’ll pop in and tell your Daddy that you’re staying until Monday.’

  I race across to Dr Brady, fling my arms around his neck and tell him, ‘I love you. I do.’

  16

  Walking in my own back door on Monday morning is the hardest thing ever – until I spy an old table and chairs in the turf shed. They are in a place cleared of sods. It must be for me to meet with people for the healing. The door has even been put back on its hinges and there’s a sign on it.

  ‘Did you see your new place?’ Daddy says, ‘And if you look inside the settle-bed, there’s new clothes for you and boots that Bredagh thinks will fit.’

  It all does fit grand and there’s no sign of Vincent. Bredagh’s nowhere to be seen but I can tell she’s not far away. The two dresses are second-hand. The coat seems new and the boots are barely worn. I’m delighted and mutter, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m off to work and Bredagh’s getting ready upstairs to go to her sister’s like Mammy used to. She won’t be going on Monday any more as you’ll need someone with you for the healing. She won’t be your mammy, you know. We just need to make things right and proper,’ Daddy tells me. ‘I’m hoping she’ll be here to see to the people who’ll start calling. Did you see the turf shed and the sign?’

  ‘What does the sign say?’

  ‘The Healer.’

  ‘Jude’s doing well and is healthy,’ I tell Daddy, but he keeps stooping to tie his laces. He pulls on an old cap and overcoat. ‘Keep the fire living for Bredagh and be a good child now.’

  When he leaves, despite the cold, I want away from the walls and sit in the turf shed. I dream of people lining out the door and down the road.

  It happens just as I picture it.

  Tuesday morning, even in the mizzling rain, they stand lined out and down the road. Bredagh takes pity on some of the elderly ones and finds them a seat inside the house and sets an old pot out for their place in the queue.

  For someone who can’t stand lots of people, seeing a sick person one at a time suits me. They mostly don’t talk. They sit on the stool and wait on me to hold their hand or touch their sore places. I don’t ask them anything. I think they like that.

  ‘Different from nosey doctors,’ someone mentions as I touch her swollen throat.

  There’s some people I cannot cure, of course, and I’m not sure what to do about them. Bredagh says, ‘Ask them to come back a few times anyway and we’ll get a few extra shillings from them.’

  There’s no fee as such, cause an old woman told Daddy that I couldn’t be charging like that or I’d lose my gifts. Bredagh tells them, ‘It is what people can afford.’ But Bredagh makes them pay what they can afford and then she squeezes more out of each one. I’m certain of that.

  The guilt is huge when I see some people return who I know I can’t cure. The lady with the large throat is back. Her eyes plead at me, as her husband tells me she can’t breathe or eat very well now at all.

  ‘You need to go to the doctor,’ I tell them both. ‘I can’t help you much more
. Try the doctor.’ I think of my saviour and the best man in all the whole world.

  ‘He says that there’s nothing he can do.’ The husband holds his wife’s hand and she tries to breathe. I place mine over theirs. ‘Then let us pray together. I’ll ask for a safe and peaceful death. There’s nothing I can do. I promise, though, that the kindest of angels will take you home soon.’

  They let me pray with them. She doesn’t cry or scream like she wants to. I hold her an extra few minutes and give her all the strength and peace that I can, as I rub her tired hands. She kisses my cheek and tells me, ‘You’re an angel yourself, sweet child.’

  ‘Take care of yourself now and each other,’ I say.

  Bredagh, of course, is ranting at me over the dinner, having heard of my honesty.

  ‘The woman is dying,’ Daddy says, ‘and sure the child must know it! People respect that she told them the truth.’

  This stops Bredagh in her tracks and one of her boys says, ‘The whole town’s talking about her. Says she’s curing all sorts.’

  ‘I’m tired out,’ I tell them, not that anyone cares. With a steady stream of people taking my soul every day, it is hard work. But no-one sees it that way. Hull and I love the river and we walk there in the early mornings before I start on my days. Mondays are busy after the talk in the pub of a Saturday and by Wednesday things are quieter. By Friday, Bredagh takes off to her sisters and I see a few folks who trickle along to see me and they leave their money under a pot by the back door.

  I love my Saturday mornings. I am so grateful that the doctor’s put a stop to them making me sit in the shed on a Saturday and Sunday. I sleep so soundly on a Saturday afternoon by their open fire in Violet Cottage. I often waken upstairs in the bed that’s now mine. Dr Brady always asks me plenty about the people who come to see me. I can’t explain to him how I know what to do.