by Judi Curtin
‘I’m sorry, Mam,’ I said. ‘Did I let you down? Are you disappointed in me? Did I nearly ruin everything for the whole family?’
She leaned over, and held my hand, squeezing it so tightly it hurt.
‘My darling Lily,’ she said. ‘I have never been so proud of you as I am at this moment. I only wish your daddy were here to see what a fine young woman you’re growing up to be.’
‘So you’re not cross?’
‘No, pet. How could I be cross when you did such a good thing for your friends?’
‘But if I lost my job?’
‘Things wouldn’t have been easy, but sure we’ve always managed before and we’d have managed again. Now let’s go inside. The girls will be so happy to see you.’
* * *
When I got back to Lissadell, the sound of sweet singing coming along the basement corridor told me that Johanna and Nellie were already settled in our bedroom.
‘There you are, Lily,’ said Johanna who was sitting on my bed. ‘Did you have a nice day with your family? I’ve picked some wild flowers for you, and put them on your locker.’
I smiled. There was barely any room on my small locker, with the flowers she’d given me on Wednesday, the ribbon and comb she’d bought for me on Thursday, and the handkerchief Nellie had stitched for me on Friday.
‘Thank you, Johanna,’ I said. ‘But …’
‘Don’t you like them?’
I liked them very much. She’d arranged them carefully with leaves and ferns in a jam jar. That wasn’t the point though.
‘I love them,’ I said slowly. ‘I love all the things you’ve given me, but these last few days …’
‘What?’ asked Nellie.
I didn’t know if I could find words that wouldn’t hurt their feelings.
‘I miss you two,’ I said in the end.
‘But we’re right here,’ said Johanna. ‘Thanks to you, we’re both still here.’
‘That’s exactly it,’ I said quickly. ‘Before, we were equal – we were friends. Now you treat me like a queen or a princess or something. You bring me presents and make a fuss of me. I want to chat with you about other things. I want you to tease me and laugh at me, and act as if I’m just like you – but all you do is thank me – over and over again.’
‘But––’
The two girls spoke together, but I held my hand up to stop them.
‘In the end I didn’t even do anything,’ I said.
‘You tried to,’ said Johanna quietly. ‘And that’s what counts, but if you don’t want us to thank you anymore, we won’t.’
I smiled. ‘Thank you. Now move over and let me sit down. My legs are killing me from all the cycling.’
* * *
After breakfast next morning I heard the sound of crying coming from the servants courtyard. I hurried outside and saw little Michael and Sir Josslyn.
‘Spotty’s too big for that pond,’ said Sir Josslyn. ‘It’s not fair to keep him there any longer.’
Now that he said it, I could see it was true. We’d all got used to seeing the seal flopping around there, perking up whenever Michael appeared with fish treats, but I hadn’t noticed how much the creature had grown.
‘I’ll make him a bigger pond,’ said Michael, with tears streaming down his face. ‘I’ll get a shovel and dig and dig, until …’
‘He needs to be in the sea,’ said Sir Josslyn gently. ‘He needs to be with his Mama and Dada and his friends. I’ll call the gardener and he can bring Spotty to the sea in his wheelbarrow.’
Then he turned around and saw me, ‘Ah, Lily is it?’
‘Yes, Sir Josslyn. Can I help?’
‘I have an important meeting in a few minutes. Perhaps you could stay with young Michael until the gardener comes and then bring him back to the nursery?’
‘Nooooo!’ wailed Michael. ‘I’m the one who found Spotty on the beach, and I’m the one who should bring him back there.’
Sir Josslyn sighed. ‘I suppose that is only fair,’ he said. ‘Lily I wonder if you would mind terribly?’
It was a beautiful sunny morning, and the thought of a walk to the beach sounded nicer than anything Mrs Bailey could have planned for me.
‘Of course,’ I said quickly. ‘I’ll go with Michael and the gardener, and then I’ll bring Michael straight back to the nursery.’ Before he could change his mind, I ran to the kitchen door. ‘Tell, Mrs Bailey I’m doing an important job for Sir Josslyn,’ I said to Delia who was at the chopping board. Then I ran back to Michael to wait for the gardener.
* * *
Spotty didn’t seem to mind his journey in the wheelbarrow. Michael ran along beside him, talking all the time.
‘You be a good seal for your Mama and Dada and your nurse,’ he said. ‘I hope they’re not very cross with you for getting lost, but it wasn’t your fault ’cause you were so small. Anyway, I think they’ll be happy to see you again. They will teach you how to catch fish, ’cause when you’re in the sea I can’t feed you any more.’
When we got to the beach, the gardener lifted Spotty from the wheelbarrow and lay him on the sand. Spotty looked around and sniffed the air, and then he began to scoot and wriggle along towards the water.
‘Goodbye, Spotty,’ said Michael, and I saw that, once again, tears were streaming down his face. ‘If you can’t find your Mama and Dada, come back to me and I will mind you, I promise.’
Spotty was at the water’s edge by now. He stopped for a second and looked back towards us. He honked once. ‘He’s saying goodbye,’ said Michael. ‘He’s saying goodbye to me.’
Then Spotty gave a final scoot, and began to float. He flipped his tail and disappeared under the waves.
Poor Michael tried to be brave as I walked him back to the nursery, though I could see his little heart was broken.
* * *
A few days later, Lady Mary came back from visiting her sister, and that afternoon she sent for me. I felt nervous as I went to her study. Had she heard about my lies? Did she think I had forgotten all her kindness to me? Did she think I was an ungrateful girl, too ready to give up all the good things she had provided for me at Lissadell?
But Lady Mary smiled warmly at me, and even asked me to sit down.
‘Mrs Bailey told me what happened while I was away,’ she said. ‘I can tell that your parents raised you to be a decent and honourable girl. If my children grow up to be half the person you are, I shall be very proud indeed.’
‘Thank you, Lady Mary,’ I said.
‘And there’s something else I’d like to discuss with you,’ she said.
‘Yes, Lady Mary?’
‘I have been speaking to Miss Connor in the needlework school, and she tells me that poor Miss Flanagan’s mother remains very unwell.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Miss Connor and I have come to an arrangement with Miss Flanagan.’
I held my breath.
Why was she telling me this?
Was the arrangement something to do with me?
‘As you know, the needlework school is closed on Saturdays and Sundays, and Miss Flanagan has asked if she could have Fridays off also, so she can help with the care of her mother. This presented a difficulty for Miss Connor, as there are so many women to train, and so many orders to fill.’
Now I began to hope properly.
‘So we would like if, for the coming months, you could spend Fridays helping Miss Connor at the needlework school. What would you think about that?’
I wanted to jump up on the table and dance a jig, but I held myself back.
‘Thank you, Lady Mary,’ I said politely. ‘I would like that very much.’
But as soon as the words were out of my mouth I began to think of obstacles.
‘But what about my work in the house? Will Nellie have to do everything, because that wouldn’t be fair?’
‘I have talked to Mrs Bailey. Delia can work with Nellie on Fridays.’
‘But am
I good enough? I can do hemming, and simple stitches like that, but what if the women need me to teach them complicated lace-work or smocking? I’m not sure I …’
Lady Mary smiled at me. ‘Please don’t worry about that,’ she said. ‘Miss Connor tells me you are very able, and I trust her judgement. She is confident that if she shows you something once, you will easily manage to share your new skill with the women.’
‘Thank you, Lady Mary.’
‘Oh – there’s one last thing. On Fridays you won’t be an under-housemaid any more – you will be an assistant needlework instructor.’
‘Assistant needlework instructor!’ I repeated the words after her, enjoying the feel of them in my mouth, loving the way they made me sound so important.
‘Needlework instructors are paid more than housemaids,’ she said. ‘So you will see an increase in your wages from this Friday. Now, are we in agreement?’
‘Yes, Lady Mary. I agree with all my heart.’
* * *
When Friday came around I put on my clean dress, and brushed my hair a hundred times. I walked out of the house, and across to the coach-house courtyard. I felt nervous and excited as I went through the door and up the stairs.
Once again, the warmth and cheer of the room wrapped itself around me. Some of the women were singing, and some were talking quietly.
Miss Connor nodded to me. ‘It’s nice to have you back, Lily,’ she said. ‘You know what to do?’
‘Yes,’ I said, as I went to the corner where my group of women was sitting.
‘Oh, ’tis yourself, Lily,’ said Mary-Kate when she saw me. ‘It does my heart good to see you. I wouldn’t say a word against dear Miss Flanagan, but you, sure you’re the best teacher in all the land.’
I smiled, as I took my seat next to her. ‘Let me see what you’re working on,’ I said. She held it out to me, and I could see that while it was far from perfect, she had done her very best.
‘Look at you,’ I said. ‘So good, so soon! Miss Connor had better watch out, or you’ll be after her job.’
She put her head down shyly, but I could see she was pleased.
The day flew by, and I could hardly believe how lucky I was to be paid good money for doing a job I loved so much.
My dream was still to teach little children to read and write, but this was one very small step in the right direction.
* * *
Maeve appeared unexpectedly the next day, and after dinner she came to my room. I was so happy to see my dear friend, I almost forgot it was so strange for a rich girl like her to be in a servant’s bedroom.
‘This is nice and cosy,’ she said.
She was right. It wasn’t big and fancy like her bedroom, but it was a warm and happy place. Maeve sat beside me on my bed, and I wrapped Mam’s shawl around our shoulders. Johanna and Nellie were already in their nightgowns, cuddled up together in Nellie’s bed.
Nellie put aside the story she had been reading and picked up her songbook.
‘Will we sing this one?’ she said. ‘“When Irish Eyes are Smiling”? I hear it’s a big hit all over the world.’
‘And most of all here in Lissadell,’ said Johanna with a smile.
And the four of us sang and laughed and talked until it was time for Johanna and Maeve to go to their own rooms. Then I put out the gaslight, and Nellie and I held hands for a moment as we settled down for another night in Lissadell.
Workhouses in Ireland
The first workhouses in Ireland opened in the 1840s, to deal with the many poor and starving people in the country. Eventually there were 163, each holding up to a thousand people.
Conditions were very harsh – families were separated into areas for men, women, boys and girls, though babies could stay with their mothers. Some workhouses allowed families to spend a little time together once a week, but some children never again saw their parents after arriving at the workhouse.
Everyone wore a uniform and slept on rough straw mattresses laid in rows on timber platforms.
They ate ‘stirabout’ (a kind of porridge), buttermilk, bread and potatoes. Most people got a little meat or a piece of sweet cake as a treat at Christmas and Easter. Meals were eaten in silence.
Adults and children were expected to work hard. Sometimes this meant breaking stones, and building roads that went nowhere.
Even children were punished harshly for breaking the rules. One punishment book has the following record:
Name Offence Punishment
William McElhinney Gave a boy a kick Whipped
John Goodwin Exhibiting bad temper No Supper
Patrick Maguire Sleeping in church No supper
People could leave at any time, but most had nowhere to go.
The last workhouses in Ireland closed in the 1920s. Many of the buildings were later used as hospitals or homes for old people.
Portumna Workhouse, Co. Galway. Photograph by Carsten Krieger.
The Gore-Booth Family
Josslyn and Mary Gore-Booth had eight children, four of whom had been born at the time this story takes place. These were Maeve de Markievicz’s first cousins.
Michael, Brian, Hugh, Brigid, Rosaleen, Aideen, Gabrielle and Angus Gore-Booth. Photograph from the Lissadell Collection
Michael (1908-1987)
In this book we meet Michael as a little boy. As an adult, he had some mental health difficulties, and so didn’t inherit the title and estate at Lissadell (as it was decided he would be unable to manage). He spent his adult life in hospital in York in England; his parents and siblings visited him regularly. The Gore-Booth children really did have a pet seal who they kept in the pond, though in reality it was at a slightly later date than in this story.
Hugh (1910-1943)
Hugh loved fishing and studying birds, and went to Oxford University to study rural economy and agriculture. He loved to travel, visiting Sweden and Lapland on fishing holidays. In 1939, at the start of World War Two, he joined the Irish Fusiliers. He died in action on the island of Leros. His father, Josslyn, died four days after he received the news. It was said at the time that he died of a broken heart.
Bridget (1911-1992)
Like her Aunt Constance, Bridget grew up to be a noted artist, and much of her work was inspired by the landscape around Lissadell. During World War Two, she spent time in rural England, taking care of children who had been evacuated from London to escape German bombing raids.
Brian (1912-1940)
As a young man, Brian joined the Royal Navy – maybe not a good idea, as he often suffered from sea-sickness! In 1936 he left and set up a business as a literary agent. In 1939, a month after the start of the war, he was called up to rejoin the navy. In 1940, his ship was torpedoed and Brian was killed along with all of the crew. Before news of this reached his mother, she wrote to him telling him that she had sent a parcel containing a cake. Later the letter was returned to Lissadell, stamped – Return to Sender – admiralty instruction.
Rosaleen (1914-1991)
Like many of the Gore-Booths, she loved painting and horses, and was an expert needleworker. When she died she was buried in the family plot at Lissadell, as were her three sisters.
Aideen (1916-1994)
Aideen was a keen swimmer, often swimming twice a day, even into old age. She was tutored at home, and was then sent to a ‘finishing school’ in London with her sister Gabrielle. She worked for a time as a children’s nurse in England and Ireland. Once at a dinner party she was asked, ‘What relation was that harridan Countess Markievicz to you?’ She replied, ‘She was my aunt, and she had the courage of her convictions.’ Aideen spent her later years in Lissadell with Gabrielle; by then the house was crumbling around them, the garden was overgrown, and the main avenue was full of potholes. Aideen and Gabrielle lived in the bedrooms and a small kitchen, with the rest of the house abandoned. By then it was damp and cold, but Aideen gave guided tours to save money to keep the roof watertight.
Gabrielle (1918-1973)
/> Gabrielle was very close to her sister Aideen. They often went on cycling tours around Ireland. Gabrielle loved music and played the organ in Lissadell Church. When her father died, Gabrielle took over the running of Lissadell Estate. There were many legal issues and the once-prosperous estate fell into disarray.
Angus (1920-1996)
Angus served in the Irish Guards during World War Two. Unlike his two older brothers, he made it home, but was traumatised by his experiences. He lived his later years with his sisters Gabrielle and Aideen in Lissadell. Angus was the only one of the eight siblings to have children, and when he died, the house and the title passed to his son, Josslyn Henry. In 2003, Josslyn Henry sold the estate to the current owners, Constance Cassidy and Edward Walsh. Until then, the house had been owned by the Gore-Booth family for 406 years!
These are some of the books and websites that helped in my research for this book:
Irishworkhousecentre.ie
Irishamerica.com
Discoverireland.ie
Workhouses of the North West edited by Jack Johnston
Grim Bastilles of Despair by Paschal Mahoney
The Gore-Booths of Lissadell by Dermot James
Maeve de Markievicz by Clive Scoular
Blazing a Trail by Sarah Webb and Lauren O’Neill
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank Dan, Brian, Ellen and Annie for their ongoing love and support.
Thanks to all the lovely booksellers, librarians and teachers who have been so positive and kind about Lily, and my first step into historical fiction.