The Ballymara Road

by Nadine Dorries

  Kitty would need to be washed down. Both Maeve and Julia had noticed a smell of stale blood as she entered the warm farmhouse.

  ‘What was the baby?’ Maeve whispered to Rosie as she ladled soup out of the pot into mugs. Maeve was sensitive to the fact that even though Kitty was half unconscious, she might be able to hear.

  ‘The girls from the Abbey told me it was a boy. I spoke to the one who was there, Aideen, her name was. She said it was an awful time, but, she swore, God held her hands as she delivered him. She told me he was beautiful, with dark hair and bright blue eyes. Kitty named him John, although, God knows, his adoptive parents will already have altered that.’

  Maeve handed Rosie the mug of soup. ‘Did she have any time with him?’

  ‘Not long. She was forbidden from leaving the labour room. Apparently the nuns were all of a dither that a beautiful baby boy had been born at the Abbey on Christmas morning, it being a full moon and all. One of the sisters said she had seen an angel rise over the Abbey, when the boy was being born and it sent them all quite senseless. The Reverend Mother had the boy taken straight to the nursery and out of sight at first light, so Kitty had only a couple of hours with him. The girls said she didn’t put him down from the moment he was born at about four o’clock until the Reverend Mother had him taken away.

  ‘She was distraught, the girls said. She has been asking for him constantly since he was taken. God knows, the girls who helped were relieved to see me. The chatty one, Aideen, thought Kitty was killing herself with the grief and looking at her now, she may have been right. Her chances of making it to this time tomorrow aren’t great, I can tell you.’

  ‘Aye, but ye didn’t know about Mrs McGuffey, Rosie,’ said Maeve. ‘We don’t lose many women around here, once they have been given a few doses of Mrs McGuffey’s home brew.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Maeve, I’m a trained midwife and I’m struggling. How can Mrs McGuffey know what to bloody do?’

  Rosie was never one to let her professional demeanour slip. A look of surprise crossed her face as she realized she had sworn for the first time in her life. Despite the seriousness of the situation, she found herself laughing. She was only too well aware that in every country home there existed a potion for every ailment known to man.

  ‘I’m sorry, Maeve, it’s just that out here in the country, between you, every house has it covered from impotency to impetigo. God alone knows what the doctor does.’

  As Rosie and Annie began tenderly to undress Kitty, Rosie didn’t notice a tear slide down Maeve’s cheek.

  The perfect loving wife, the kindest friend and neighbour, Maeve now felt desperately sad. She had never asked her husband, Liam, for anything. She had never needed to but, now, although Liam was a good and loving husband, for the first time in her marriage she felt angry.

  In the only thing she really needed from Liam to ease her deep sadness and make her happy, he had refused her. She could have brought up Kitty’s baby as her own. They would have found a way and then Kitty could have been an auntie to the baby. Sure, how many families did they all know of in Ireland and Liverpool where that happened? There was a family on every street. It was the widely accepted thing to do. Why couldn’t Liam do it too?

  ‘I couldn’t love another man’s child, Maeve, so I couldn’t,’ he had pleaded. ‘If it isn’t ours, how can it be our baby?’

  ‘Because people can and do,’ Maeve had replied. ‘Ye love that mangy dog that goes everywhere with ye as if it were ye son. Am I wrong? Am I?’

  Liam had stormed out of the room. He did indeed love his dog and Maeve’s question was a fair one, but he just couldn’t answer it.

  ‘Maeve, is that you?’

  Kitty had woken as Rosie and Julia began to wash her down, making soothing noises as they did so. Maeve already had nightclothes warming for Kitty by the fire. She had hung them there as soon as she heard Kitty was coming.

  Rosie was removing Kitty’s blood-soaked knickers and they were both trying to sit her on the chamber pot, which Liam had tactfully placed on the floor before he left for Gisala. Maeve held both Kitty’s hands to steady her as she wobbled to one side. Kitty looked as though she would break if she fell off the pot.

  ‘Aye, Kitty. You are back in Ballymara and we are going to look after you here. You will be right soon enough and back in Liverpool before you know it.’

  Kitty wasn’t listening to what Maeve said. She stared straight into her eyes.

  ‘I have to find him. I have to find my baby.’

  Rosie said, ‘Kitty, we need you to concentrate on getting yourself better. We will talk about the baby later. Let’s just think about you. Here, swallow this.’ Maeve held up to her lips a mug of oversweet tea with aspirin dissolved and concealed in the thick, brown liquid.

  While Maeve held Kitty upright on the pot, Rosie poured the jug of soapy water over her wounds to clean her stitches. Then, placing a towel under and across her, they lifted her onto the huge padded settle and laid her down on a feather eiderdown covered with towels.

  Rosie whispered to Maeve, ‘I have to return tomorrow with the rest of the money. Can you believe it? The sisters are charging us to half kill the child. The money from the Americans to buy the baby isn’t enough.’

  ‘That cannot be right,’ Maeve replied.

  ‘It isn’t,’ said Rosie. ‘I’ve already made enquiries but you know the Church, all powerful, more powerful than the government, even. It is all a cosy agreement if you ask me. Everyone knows what is happening but it is all kept secret. They have no such institutions for the boys, mind.’

  Rosie felt Kitty’s pulse; it was weak and thready. Her skin was sallow and hot, her abdomen was distended and hard, and a foul-smelling pus oozed from her perineum. Rosie crossed herself. The pus was as nothing, compared to what might be developing internally.

  Rosie sat down on the end of the settle with a sigh.

  ‘Go to bed, Maeve,’ she said. ‘I will sit with her for the night. She is in my charge. I will need your help in the morning, but for now, you grab what’s left of your sleep.’

  ‘I will not,’ said Maeve. ‘We will have a drink and a ciggie here and wait and see what Liam and Julia fetch back from Gisala.’

  Maeve moved over to the press and poured two large glasses of whiskey. She winked at Rosie and said, ‘Get this down ye. It’s amazing how much better ye will feel after and, if ye don’t, I’ll fetch the bottle.’

  Maeve took her rosaries out of her apron pocket, kissed them and wrapped them around Kitty’s unresisting little fingers.

  It seemed as though they had been sitting for only an hour or so when they heard the sound of the van return. Julia bustled into the room with Liam.

  ‘Well, that was difficult, I can tell ye. Maeve, I had to say it was for ye sister. Thank God she had that little girl last week and ye must remember to tell her what I said. ’Tis a tangled web we are weaving here all right.’

  ‘Well, everyone this side of Bellgarett knows Rosie is here,’ said Maeve, ‘so it fits.’

  Rosie wasn’t listening; she was busy removing the straw stopper from the green bottle that Julia had handed her.

  ‘Jesus, what is in this? It smells like pee,’ she said, pulling her nose away sharply.

  Julia shrugged. ‘Aye, well, likely it has a bit in there, but it’s mainly plants and things, usually. Do ye have anything better?’

  ‘It won’t be human pee,’ said Maeve helpfully. ‘Most likely from their goat and, anyway, it’ll be whatever is mixed with it that does all the good. Stop yer complaining now and get it down her.’

  ‘That goat wins the show at Castlefeale every year, so it does,’ said Julia. ‘There’s so many put out around here by it, I’m surprised someone hasn’t slit its throat. It’s well known the McGuffeys make a fortune, so they do, from the magic of its medicine.’

  Lifting Kitty’s head, they managed to pour half of the bottle down her, followed by some soup, painstakingly fed to her by Julia, one teaspoon at
a time.

  Julia and Maeve retired to bed, more comforted to have seen Kitty settled.

  ‘Everything you will need is in the press,’ Maeve whispered, giving Rosie a hug. ‘She looks so much better already. The McGuffeys’ medicine has done the trick.’

  Before Rosie could respond, Maeve left the room, knowing she would be required in the morning to help with the more practical things like stacking the fire, preparing food and persuading Rosie to catch some sleep.

  Rosie wrung out a cloth in the fresh warm water Julia had left by her side and began wiping down Kitty’s arms with long strokes, in an attempt to bring her blood to the surface and cool her down. Rosie was desperate to take on the high temperature and conquer it. She was experienced enough to know Kitty was on the way down, not the way up.

  It would be a long night.

  Rosie woke to the sound of a loud knock at the front door.

  It was light, the cock was crowing furiously, and through the window she could see that although the sky was loaded with snow, for now at least, it appeared to have ceased falling.

  ‘Morning, Aengus,’ she whispered, as she recognized one of the young McMahons from the farm next door standing on the step.

  ‘Morning, Rosie. John asked me to knock and check everything was good, what with your car arriving so late and with the lights having been on all night.’

  ‘I’m fine, Aengus, tell John thank you, would you, but we are all good in here.’

  Rosie saw Aengus gazing through the doorway towards the settle, where Kitty was sleeping. He looked straight at Rosie and, in that unguarded moment, his eyes asked multiple questions.

  ‘Ye may be fine, but, sure, the car is not.’ The words Aengus spoke did not reflect his thoughts in any way. Rosie saw that her car was half buried by snow.

  ‘Don’t worry, it will be gone soon. Tell Liam I will clear it now,’ Aengus said, then lifted his cap and turned to walk back towards the McMahon farm at the end of the Ballymara Road.

  Rosie moved back inside and found Maeve in the kitchen.

  ‘Sure, I expected that,’ she said, nodding towards the door. ‘I’m surprised there was no one knocking on last night. If I had seen a car arrive at the McMahons’ I would have been out there like a shot to see if all was well.’

  Rosie smiled. The farmers in Roscommon liked to think they were a little more sophisticated than those in Mayo, but really it was just the same.

  ‘Aye, I suppose a car is a rare sight on the Ballymara Road,’ she said.

  ‘Everyone in the village will know within hours that Kitty is back with us,’ said Maeve. ‘There will be plenty knocking on soon enough, people wondering why we have a visitor. How is she? Is her temperature down? We need to move her into the bedroom to keep her from prying eyes.’ Maeve was talking as fast as her brain was working.

  ‘She has stopped burning and fretting, and seems to be sleeping more peacefully now.

  ‘But if people know it is Kitty, it will be obvious she has been in Ireland all along, else how would she have made it here last night in this weather? I will say she has been helping me out in Dublin, training for something or other, on a secretarial course maybe, and staying with family for Christmas, and that she has taken ill on her way to visit us. Will that do now?’

  ‘It is as good as anything, aye, and no one will be checking up on you, will they, you being so grand and important an’ all.’ Maeve winked at Rosie as, between them, both women lifted Kitty from the settle and carried her into the bedroom where Maeve had lit a fire.

  ‘Well, the sisters can whistle for their money because I will be driving nowhere today. Good job I rang home before I left for the Abbey to let them know what I was doing or my poor husband would have a search party out on the road by now.’

  As Rosie pulled up the covers, Kitty opened her eyes and, for a moment, looked confused as she took in her surroundings.

  ‘Have ye got the baby, Maeve?’ she whispered.

  Maeve threw Rosie a troubled look. ‘I’m off to get ye some tea, miss,’ she said, squeezed Kitty’s hand and left the room.

  Rosie sat on the edge of Kitty’s bed. ‘Well, ye gave us all quite a scare,’ she said, picking up Kitty’s thin, trembling hand.

  Kitty looked at the face of the speaker, staring her in the eye. She knew this woman, she was sure, but she just couldn’t remember.

  ‘Do ye have the baby?’ she asked again.

  ‘No, Kitty, I don’t. The baby has been adopted by an American family. You signed an agreement, do ye remember?’

  Kitty turned her head towards the window and saw Aengus, clearing the snow from Rosie’s car.

  ‘Aengus,’ she whispered. She remembered him. Maybe he would know where her baby was.

  Kitty’s room became a hive of activity: Maeve fed her, Rosie washed her, and Julia acted as handmaiden, changing her bottom sheet, bringing fresh water and putting her in a clean, warm nightdress. They all made soothing noises, stroked her hair and threw each other worried glances.

  ‘A few more days and ye will be up and about,’ said Maeve.

  ‘We will have you as right as rain in no time at all,’ said Rosie.

  ‘With Maeve’s cooking, ye will be giving us a dance in a week,’ said Julia.

  They were almost talking to themselves because Kitty wasn’t there. They could see the thoughts flitting across her brain, the questions and the confusion, as she looked at them, unknowing, through narrowed eyes, her brow furrowed. And then she spoke.

  ‘Where’s my baby? Do ye have my baby?’ Once she found those words, she said them again and again.

  No one spoke. There was no answer.

  ‘I think Jacko the mule must know ye are here, Kitty, he hasn’t stopped braying. He’s hanging around the back, waiting for ye, I reckon,’ said Maeve, remembering how much Kitty had loved riding on Jacko.

  But Kitty made no sign of recognition. She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the pillow, once more overcome by exhaustion. She tried to lift her hand to tap on the window to attract Aengus’s attention.

  ‘Aengus,’ she whispered.

  Instinctively, he stopped shovelling snow and looked towards her. He could not see Kitty through the net curtains, but he rightly guessed she was there, on the other side. In a wild gesture of hope, he smiled and lifted his hand. He was rewarded when, after just a second, he saw her own hand press the curtain flat against the glass, before it slipped down and the curtain gently swung back into place.

  The three women retreated and left Kitty to sleep.

  Kitty turned her head from the window and watched the bedroom door close, gently.

  ‘Sleep is mother nature’s healer,’ said Maeve.

  Julia placed the bacon rashers on the griddle and began preparing them all some much needed breakfast.

  ‘I’m worried about her delirium,’ said Rosie. ‘Her temperature is down but I still must find some antibiotics, somewhere, this morning. Whatever was in that potion has worked a miracle, so it has. It’s more her state of mind that concerns me now. She doesn’t seem to understand what is going on.’

  ‘She understands she has had a baby,’ said Julia. ‘Looks to me like she’s on the edge of madness. I saw it once with a woman, after a stillborn. Hanged herself in the barn, she did.’

  ‘Jeez, Julia, shush,’ said Maeve. ‘The girl has had a loss and been very ill. She will be well soon enough. I’d say a week from now, she will be a different girl altogether. She’s young, she will bounce back in no time. Liam is ready to run ye to the doctor in Castlefeale, for whatever it is ye want, Rosie, but eat first. It could take a while on these roads.’

  From the familiar bed she had slept in while on holiday at the farmhouse, Kitty could hear the muffled voices in the kitchen, just as she had heard them, only months earlier, when they had decided what to do in order to contain her secret. Nellie had been with her then, in the bed on the opposite side of the room.

  ‘Nellie,’ she whispered. Was that Nellie sitting o
n the bed? It was; there was no mistaking Nellie’s red hair. ‘Nellie,’ she whispered again as she reached out her hand, but Nellie had gone.

  She was alone again, or so she thought, but not for long.

  Turning slowly onto her side with her face towards the window, she saw Aengus digging the snow away from Rosie’s car. Kitty remembered their meeting at the harvest, their flirting and her happiness. Her eyes filled with tears. She had thought she would never see him again but she had remembered his name.

  ‘Aengus,’ she whispered. ‘Aengus.’

  She raised her hand again and her heart filled with joy at the sight of his smiling face.

  He will know, he will tell me, he will know where my baby is, she thought. But as she saw him walk away, back to the McMahon farm, Kitty felt anxious.

  ‘Don’t go,’ she croaked through her dry lips. ‘Aengus.’

  But he had gone. The sound of his feet crunching through the snow faded as the distance grew between them.

  Kitty decided to follow him and tried to put her feet on the floor. Maybe he had left to fetch her baby, to bring him to her. That must be it. She would go with him, she must.

  ‘Aengus,’ she rasped again, setting her feet on the rag rug at the side of the bed. She felt dizzy and it was difficult to move, but then they came. They filled the room and they knew where her baby was.

  There was her mammy, Maura, and her da, Tommy, and Nellie and Aengus were with them, and they were leading her away from the bed and outside to her baby. They knew where he was and she laughed. They were taking her to her beautiful baby boy, to her little prince, her baby John.

  They held her hand, helped her across the bedroom floor and swept her down the corridor towards the dairy door. As it opened, the dazzling white glare from the first rays of sunlight reflecting up from the snow almost blinded her and the blast of icy air took her breath clean away, but they were leading her, urging her on. She laid her bare foot on the glistening snow and laughed but, as she looked down, a look of puzzlement crossed her face as drops of blood were falling at her feet, piercing the snow as they dripped. Deep, hot, penetrating red against the icy brilliant white.