‘I dunno,’ I tell him for the twentieth time. ‘I just know what I know.’
‘All right, Molly,’ he says, but then he starts asking all the same questions the following week. He must think that I will have found the words to tell him. But I don’t think I’ll ever have them.
‘Do you get any of the money?’ Dr Brady asks me, and I shrug my shoulders. Bredagh tells anyone who listens that a child like me eats like a horse and takes a lot of looking after. They did buy me a new hat and gloves for the funny Mass that I go to with the doctor and his wife. ‘Do you see what money people give your Aunt Bredagh?’
I shrug again praying he doesn’t ask Bredagh about the money. She’s more interested in it than anything else in this world. If he does mention it, she might take the head clean off him with her tongue.
‘I just hope people don’t take it out on you if you can’t make them better.’
‘I tell them if I can’t cure them.’
‘They accept it?’
‘Yes.’
‘What if they are not going to live?’
‘I help them wait on the angels to take them home.’
‘Do you tell them that they’re dying?’ His eyes are wide under the glass he pushes up on that lovely nose. ‘Do you say to them that they will not survive?’
‘Yes.’
‘But how do you know this, Molly? That woman in Collooney stopped you and told you that her sister was gone and thanked you for giving her a safe death?’
I know who she means. ‘The woman had a swollen neck. It was very bad.’
‘But how can you just know these things? I’m a man of science and this makes no sense.’
‘Sure, the world doesn’t make sense,’ I tell him and give Jude his rattle. ‘I can always tell when death is coming. I feel it all over.’
‘I see.’
‘Like when Mammy was dying, I thought they were coming for me. I just knew Jude would be okay, but death was near.’
‘You should go to school, though, Molly. A child like you should not be working and draining yourself like this every week. You need to be a child.’
‘I can’t learn schooling. I need to make up for what I did to Mammy.’ The shadows are telling me to be quiet, but I need to tell him. I have to say it out loud that I am eaten away inside. ‘I stopped her bleeding. I stopped her heart.’
The doctor takes my hand and holds my chin with his other hand. I can’t look away.
‘No-one could do that, Molly. Not even you. Your mother died in childbirth. It happens. You did not kill your mother.’
I know he’ll never understand that the badness from the walls took me over then, but I won’t let it happen again. Even though I want to kill Breedgah and Vincent, the angels won’t let me kill again.
At least, I hope they will stop me. Killing people is wrong and I must not do it.
17
The good times last for months and months. I’m happier than I have ever been. People from Leitrim and Donegal start to come to see me too. Word is spreading that I’m healing people of many ‘ailments’. I’m also taking pain and grief away.
Hull is always with me and is growing huge like a hound should. Sometimes people pet him and ask if I heal animals. I tell them the truth. In time animals usually know how to heal themselves and they don’t need me, but Bredagh has said to some folk to bring along their cats and dogs. I’ve even prayed over a parrot!
My Jude’s growing and my stays at the doctor’s help me with my talking. This makes me happy. Jane’s hugs always crush me. Violet smiles at me on a Saturday and then her kiss on my cheek on a Monday morning keeps me alive all week.
People are wonderful to me – most of the time. I get an odd person who has bad air around them. I told one woman that I wouldn’t touch her and she asked for her money back. I could hear her screaming at Bredagh who came to see if I was all right. One man tried to hurt me and Hull had to set him right about what’s what. Mostly, I like the people who leave the turf shed.
‘She barely speaks,’ I heard a man tell Daddy outside one day. ‘And yet you feel like she knows you inside out. She’s an amazing girl.’
Daddy agreed and said, ‘She’ll be great woman, you know. She’s got a destiny. I’ve always said it.’
‘Aye,’ the man said, ‘I’d say you’re right. Have you a gift of seeing things yourself?’
This was when Daddy took to telling some people’s fortunes. It didn’t last long as people saw through him. One man hit him so hard that his nose broke. My healing had stopped the bleeding, but I told him I’d bring it back again if ever mentioned fortunes again. He agreed and Bredagh warned him too. ‘You don’t mess about with those things, Michael. You won’t get away with it. The fairies aren’t something I believe in, but ya can’t mess with it, all the same.’
‘She does,’ he said, pointing at me. The shadows told me that he was jealous of me too, like Mammy was.
‘The doctor isn’t jealous of me,’ I said.
The thump was hard and knocked me off my chair again. All of my healing dried up the bruise but the swelling took longer to go down than I liked.
* * *
The doctor starts his questioning when I’m in his car. ‘What happened this time?’
‘I walked into the door.’
He doesn’t believe me. ‘Where was Hull?’
‘In the settle-bed and it was quick.’
‘Won’t your angels protect you?’ he asks me, poking my arm to tease me and try to ease his fears for me.
‘They do help me. They found you, Violet and Jane for me. But best of all they gave me Jude.’
The days and months roll into years and Jude’s schooling goes very well. He loves it. He never complains and I can’t understand it at all. How can he be good at words and numbers?
My healing is bringing folks from many counties now. Bredagh takes a room for me to heal in, at the back of McLaughlin’s pub in Collooney village. Bredagh’s tired counting the money and Daddy’s a drunkard when he’s not working at the station. Himself and Bredagh never married and her boys grew up and are all away in homes of their own. As Daddy’s beatings have stopped, I’ve to ask the doctor one day what age I might be.
‘Fifteen, Molly. Sixteen on your next birthday.’
I know that I’m a fine lassie, as nearly every man and woman who comes to the healing says something about my beauty and height. Some mention my red hair. Men have noticed my breasts too. I do have a fine pair. I feared that they might take the goodness out of me, but they haven’t. Years ago, Violet explained my own bleeding to me, with the doctor telling me, ‘Don’t stop that monthly bleeding. It’s natural and will bring you your own children someday.’
Jude is a fine boy, tall for his age with big brown eyes and light-coloured hair. He’s a good scholar who still wraps his eight-year-old arms and legs around me like he did as a toddler. We understand each other sometimes without speaking and this baffles the doctor’s household. Jane is still making us sugary tea and telling us all the gossip from the village.
I love to hear her talk and drift off when she’s telling me about the men who will romance me. She reads to me sometimes from her novels and we giggle at Jude pretending he’s being sick at people falling in love. The shadows are still with me, but they say that I’m growing older and need to decide things for myself as well. They talk of even better days to come but that I may need to be careful and strong before those times happen. I try not to listen to the warnings they give me. I don’t want to think of things changing, but I know deep in my gut that they will.
Hull is a fine dog but he is greying around his muzzle. He has never needed me for anything, even feeding him has become Bredagh’s job. In fairness, she’s fed him well with the doctor’s money. I can’t bear to think of him leaving me. However, something in my mind tells me he will leave me. I need to prepare myself for this, but again, I can’t and won’t think on it at all.
18
The sun is spli
tting the stones on the pavement outside McLaughlin’s pub. I work in their backroom and the line for the healing day seems done, when a man’s head peeks around the door. It is Vincent McCarthy. Bredagh’s on his heels. She is all in a flutter, as she always is when Vincent’s around. Daddy is probably on the stool by the snug or at the station where he pretends to work. We rarely speak these days and I didn’t know that Vincent was coming. But here he is. Him and his black mop of hair, sallow skin and the bad eyes on him. When he’s about, I’m stuck to the spot as usual. His handshake makes my skin crawl.
‘They tell me you’re some lassie these days, Molly? Doing all sorts with these hands,’ he rubs his own across mine. I swipe mine back. Bredagh can’t hide her delight at seeing him or her disgust at me being rude to him. ‘Be nice to your uncle, Molly McCarthy! Thank him for coming all the way from Dublin to see us.’
The cursing in my head is good for me. I do it over and over.
‘Tell me…’ Vincent asks me. ‘Is there something you can do for me now that you’re a woman of the world?’
Bredagh’s not here now and neither is Hull. He’s at home these days as he’s not allowed into the backroom. I’m alone and the shadows aren’t with me either.
‘I’m told that you talk more these days. Full of gossip from up at the doctor’s every weekend. Good job today’s Thursday. I made a special trip down. I thought I would like to see you for a change. I think you should be nicer to me.’ He pulls at my arm and manages to haul me into him. His breath is on my ear. Those hands fondle where they can. ‘You’ve always been a fine lassie. I think you should come to Dublin for a while and make a name for yourself there too. I could look after you. Bredagh might come as well?’
His hands are on my arse and he is kneading it like dough.
I can’t speak and can’t tell him to stop. Nothing will leave my mouth, other than a cry. The tears are falling when Bredagh comes back in. He lets me go.
She’s not stupid. She knows what he’s at and of course it’s all my fault.
‘What are you doing? What are you at, you hussy? Your daddy’s going to lose his mind, you throwing yourself at your own uncle.’
‘Don’t worry about it, Bredagh,’ Vincent says. ‘You know she’s not the full bob. I’d worry, though, about what she’d do with some of the men in here. She might get a name for herself. And for you too!’
‘Jesus Christ of Almighty! Is she at this with other men? Are you throwing yourself at the men who come here too?’ Bredagh pulls at my arm to make me look into her horrid face. ‘You’re not whoring in here instead of healing? Are ya? It didn’t occur to me at all that you might be at that.’
‘Don’t fret about it. Molly’s always had an eye for me. We all know that she’s only a slip of a silly girl with no brain at all.’
Bredagh sighs on about how looking after me for the past few years has been a torture. ‘She’s that quiet and sly…’ They both laugh and talk about me as if I’m not human or listening to them.
I hum my tune to clear the evilness around me and bring my guardians back quickly.
‘Stop that singing! Get out and into Vincent’s car. Don’t let her lay a hand on you, Vincent,’ she says. ‘I’ll get Michael home shortly now, too, and we’ll have the stew that I’ve had on since the morning. You behave yourself, my girl, and not a word to your poor father about this. We’ve a busy day tomorrow and then I’ll go to my sister’s on Friday. Mrs McLaughlin will have to mind things here.’
Vincent’s hand is on my thigh all the way home, apart from when he changes his gears on the battered car he drives. He doesn’t say a word and when we pull up at the house, I race to let Hull out of the shed. Hull doesn’t even notice Vincent standing with his legs spread, in the backyard. My Hull is just so glad to see me. We race together for the river and to be away like we do. The sun shines on my face. I pray for all to keep bright and warm.
There is no-one awake when I let us back into the house. I lift the latch as quiet as you like. Hull’s dinner is by the fire and dried up, but there’s no sign of anything for me. There’s no sound in the house, not even Vincent’s snoring. Hull laps at his dish and makes my stomach growl. The pot is steeping in the basin by the door. I butter a crust of bread and watch the embers in the fire fade. Hull lies down. I sit into Daddy’s chair and let my eyes close.
Sometime into the night Hull’s gurgling sounds and gagging wakens me. Blood and bile is pooling from his mouth. He staggers to his paws and heads for the door. He’s in a bad way.
All of my powers surface but nothing seems to be helping him. Outside, he keels over on the hard earth and he wretches to vomit. He peers at me in the twilight. He’s dying and there’s nothing I can do to bring him back. His innards are bleeding. I do stop the blood, but I know that even I can’t stop the poison. There’s too much damage. His breathing gets heavier. There are longer spells between each breath. I hold my hand on his heart and ask him what he needs me to do. I am to end this and how can I do that?
‘Go with the angels my special friend. I love you. I do,’ I tell him and hold the place in his chest where his love comes from. His heart stops beating. The gulps in my own chest make me heave out waves and waves of tears. On and on they come with ‘Why? Why? Why?’ I sit on my knees rocking over and back for a long while. Uncertain of what to do, I think of what happens to bodies when they die and lose their blood and air. I must find Hull a resting place. Somewhere near me, but somewhere safe for him now.
It’s then I feel Vincent behind me. ‘The poor dog must’ve got some poison by the river,’ he says. I don’t move or speak. Inside I am quivering. He chuckles a bit and walks back inside. The wheelbarrow wheel squeaks after I load Hull’s heavy furry body into it. He’s gone. I can’t bear that his soul has left me here alone.
The shovel makes harsh sounds in the soft earth near the river bank. I can’t breathe with the crying and the pains in me. Daddy’s hand comes from somewhere and he takes the spade and finishes the digging. He’s swaying a bit and his boots are untied, but he finishes the hole and motions for me to say goodbye to my friend.
I kiss the ears I rubbed at night to help us sleep, and touch his nose, and wipe his eyes. I whisper, ‘You’re the best friend I ever had and someone will pay for hurting your beautiful soul. Someone will pay for doing this.’
The sound of the clay going over Hull hurts my ears. I sing to raise his soul higher. ‘Ave Maria, oh, listen to a maiden’s prayer. For thou canst hear amid the wild, ’tis thou, ’tis thou canst save amid despair. We slumber safely till the morrow though we’ve by man been outcast. Oh maiden, see a maiden’s sorrow, oh mother, hear a needing child…’
Daddy fills on at the earth. It covers my Hull’s lovely fur and all goes black. Daddy pats the mound of earth down and catches his breath as I sing on. A hand leans on my shoulder. There’s not a word spoken, but he knows what happened and is sorry for my loss.
But, as usual, lazy Michael McCarthy will do nothing about it.
19
‘I can’t do the healing today,’ I tell Bredagh. She’s putting on her face in the small cracked mirror by the back door. ‘Hull died and I’ve no healing in me.’
‘Nonsense,’ she says. ‘Put on those boots and let’s get moving. There’s things to be done today.’
‘I’m not going.’
‘Your father’s away to work even though he doesn’t feel like it. Vincent has a few days off. You’d need to move your arse now if we’re to make the bus into town. I don’t want to cycle in the rain.’
‘No.’
I’ve never stopped the healing, no matter how bad things are. Never stopped. I find peace and joy in helping others. The shadows come to me when I’m healing and I like the time I spend at it. Bredagh’s struck dumb for once, and she doesn’t ask me any more.
‘Vincent poisoned Hull. Or did you do it together?’ I ask the back of her.
Her shock seems genuine. But, she’s meant for the stage, such is her play-acting. �
��I wouldn’t hurt the dog. I was good to that mongrel.’
She was. Hull was about the only living creature she was good to.
‘Why would Vincent kill your dog? That’s an awful thing to say,’ she whispers and points up the stairs. ‘He came home to see you. Why would he poison your Hull? He’s got a great job and money. Throwing yourself at him one minute and accusing him of poisoning your dog the next? What is the matter with ya?’
I dare not tell her what Vincent wants. She’d be jealous. I know she would. She thinks he’s all great cause he works in Dublin and wears a fancy hat that makes him look like an ass. I know better these days what he’s after when he looks at me.
People have come to me asking me to heal their private parts, but I’ve never had to do anything I didn’t feel was right. One woman told me of how her husband beat her and often pushed his mickey inside her. She needed some healing in her insides. I asked her lots because she had to come back a good few times after that. She said that she might just kill herself as no-one understood. The poor thing didn’t always sense him sneaking up on her. Sometimes she was even sleeping and he hurt her badly. It sickened me to think of her alone in the dark with no dog to keep her safe and no angels to save her.
I spend the day sitting on Hull’s grave and cry until I have no more tears. With no Hull to guard me, my friends tell me Vincent will sneak up on me. Sleeping that night isn’t easy. I’ve only one night to lie awake for, as I’ll be at the doctor’s on Saturday morning and be away until Vincent’s away on the train. I cry myself into the settle-bed and take the bread-knife in with me.
It’s near dawn that I hear the stairs creak. Vincent is in the kitchen. Daddy’s drinking is bad these days. He’s out cold. Aunt Bredagh wears rags in her hair and they don’t even keep her awake. I’m alone with the birds chirping outside.
The Healer Page 7