by Honor Harlow
Straight after Mass, Loretta, Noeleen and Regina were left with their parents because they were going to the bishop’s palace. All the rest of us stayed. Daddy kissed me and said I looked like a little angel.
The nuns led us back to the convent, to the part where the nuns lived. We went up the steps through the wide-open door, across a delph floor with beautiful drawings in it and into the parlour. There was a long table with a white tablecloth full of cups and plates, glasses and spoons. Sr Ignatius and Sr Paul showed us where to sit. Then a pile of nuns fluttered out from a door at the end of the room. A few carried big kettles with two handles, one in front of the lid and the other behind. While the teapot nuns poured tea into our cups, the others put milk and sugar into them. Other nuns were handing us ham sandwiches and slices of bread and butter. After we had eaten our breakfast, the nuns came back with jelly and custard and lemonade in big jugs. They placed cakes and biscuits on the table and told us to help ourselves.
The cake I liked the best was long one, like a big, fat sausage. It had jam and cream in the creases that went round and round. When the nun cut it into slices she asked, “Who would like a slice of swiss roll?” We all put up our hands.
While we were at the feast, the nuns kept wiping our faces because we had to be clean for the photos. Then we went out to the garden and stood on the steps outside the convent door. Sr Ignatius said it was the class photo and we had to stand in a group. She put me in the back row because I was tall. Úna was in the middle and Kait in the front. After the class photo, we stood in a line waiting to get our photo taken by ourselves. I was talking to Úna saying how smashing the feast was when the woman who was helping the man with the camera, called my name. She led me to stand in front of him, telling me to smile and to join my hands in front of me with my white rosary beads dangling down. He clicked the box he was holding.
Then Mammy and Daddy appeared, and we went home. On the way back, anyone we met stopped us and said I looked beautiful and my First Holy Communion day was the happiest day of my life.
Mrs McLoughlin made the dinner for us and brought the roast chicken to our house for us. I couldn’t eat any. Mammy opened a tin box of biscuits, like at Christmas time, for all the people who kept calling in all day. They patted me on the head and put half crowns and shillings into my hand. Mr Delaney gave me a pound note. Mammy took all the money and said we would open an account in the post office. It was nice being the star, as Daddy said, and having everyone want to see me on the happiest day of my life, but what I really wanted to do was to go up Clonthu Hill to show the nannas my dress, as I had promised.
That night in bed when I looked over at Will in the picture on the mantlepiece, I wondered if Liam in the Home liked the swiss roll and if the lemonade had made his nose go fizzy.
Úna didn’t come to school the day after our First Holy Communion. Kait told me she had stuffed herself with too many sweets and her tummy was sick. Liam and Brigid weren’t in class either. I supposed their tummies were hurting them from eating too many sweets.
That evening I went to see the nannas to say I was sorry for not showing them my dress. Úna was there with her nanna, Nan Gormley. Before I opened my mouth, Nan took the pouch out and put a sixpence into my hand.
“Nan, I can’t take it.”
“And why is that, a girleen?”
“I promised I would show you my dress and I didn’t come here yesterday.”
“Arlene, sure you’re only a child. You do what you’re told to do.”
“But Nan…”
“Don’t worry, a child. Now if I didn’t keep my word, I would have to come back from the next world, like poor auld March Lydon.”
“What happened to March, Nan?”
“Ah, a girleen, it’s like this. Marcheen needed a few shillings to pay the train and boat fare and he asked Molly for it.”
“He did indeed, a stóirín, and said ‘Molly, as sure as God in that picture there on the wall,’ he said pointing to the Sacred Heart, ‘when I come back from Scotland, I’ll pay every penny I owe you,’” said Nanny Ward.
“Why did he go to Scotland, Nanny?”
“To pick the praties.”
“My daddy goes to pick praties too and he brings Mammy back money,” Kait said.
“To cut a long story short, wasn’t I sitting up in the bed one night saying my rosary when there was three loud knocks on the window,” Nanny Ward said.
“Who was knocking, Nanny?”
“No one because when I drew back the curtains, there wasn’t a sinner outside.”
“There wasn’t?”
“There wasn’t but when I picked up my beads and started the decade of the sorrowful, I heard the three knocks again.”
“What did you do?”
“I put my hand under the pillow and took out the bottle of Knock holy water I have there and sprinkled some on the window and cried out, ‘In the name of God, I command you to make yourself known.’”
Me and Kait were up on top of each other with our fists in our mouths and shaking with fright.
“Nan what happened?”
“The face of March appeared.”
“Was he back from Scotland?”
“The very thoughts crossed my mind, a girl. I said ‘Will ya come in or that, March and don’t be frightening the life out of me.’”
“What did he say?” This time it was Kait who asked the question.
“The voice that came out of his mouth made the air around me go cold.”
“It said, ‘Molly, in the name of God and all his saints, I beseech you to help me!’”
“‘March, if there is anything I can do, I’ll do it, a mhic,’ I said to him and meaning every word of what I said.”
“Only you can give my soul the rest it needs,” he answered in the voice that was putting the heart cross ways in me. “Marcheen, for the love of God, tell me what you want?”
“Release me from the promise I made you, I implore you from the depths of my soul,” he begged.
“And what promise would that be now, a mhic, sure it’s many the promise you made.”
“Molly, if there is any pity in your heart, you will pardon me the fare,” he said.
At that moment Nan realised there was a red glow around the face looking at her through the windowpane, so she asked, “What fare would that be now, a mhic?” wondering if what he was smoking in his pipe was causing the red glow in the dark night.
“The train and boat fare. Before I left, I swore under the image of Christ Himself I would pay you back.”
“Indeedin you did, but as I said to Mary Gormley the very same day you left, I said and she heard me say it, ‘When my Pakie died, the lad couldn’t do enough for me and there is no money in this world to repay him the kindness he showed me. You owe me nothing, a Marcheen, a stóirín.”
“Molly, say you release me from my debt.”
“I do, I release you from your debt. There is not a penny owing to me from you.”
“My blessing on you, Molly. I can go on my way.”
“Indeed, you can and if there is anything owing, it’s on my side, March.”
“The blessings of God, His holy Mother and the saints on you, Molly.”
“Will ya come in out of the night and not be talking to me through the window,” I told him, but he said he had a long journey to make and was gone like he came.
Nan Gormley continued telling us the rest of the story. “Every word Molly is telling ye is as true as sure as there’s a God in heaven. Sure, the sun wasn’t up for long the next morning when Molly was standing where you are now, a girleen, telling me how Martin had asked her to pardon him the money he owed her.”
“Why didn’t he want to pay.”
“He wanted to pay but he couldn’t because he was dead.”
“Dead!” I echoed. Kait grabbed me by the arm and sunk her fingers into my flesh.
“It was his ghost who was talking to Molly that night.”
Kait was squeezing my
arm tight, like Mammy does to the lemon to get the last drop of juice out. I asked in a shaky voice, “How did ye know he was dead?”
“A telegram that broke our hearts, came the next day. Poor March was with his Maker.”
“If he was with his Maker, he wasn’t dead,” I said puzzled.
But Kait who was big and knew everything said, “His Maker means Holy God, so he was in Heaven, cos God only lets dead people into heaven.”
I shook her hand off me and asked the nannas how he got dead.
“How did he die, Nanny?”
“Not a death you would wish on anyone.”
I said, “What happened?”
“It wasn’t til the others came back from the pratie picking that we heard the sad news.”
“What did they tell ye?”
“A sad story. When they got off the boat, sick and weary, they waited for the train they were taking them to Ayrshire.”
“Why did they wait?” I asked. Kait was silent without asking any questions, maybe because she knew the story cos her daddy went pratie-picking to Scotland for money.
“On account of the train not leaving until the early hours of the morning.”
“Where did they wait?”
“The night was spent in the station in Glasgow but Mart, wanting to stretch his legs, took into his head to go for a walk on his own.”
“Wasn’t it night-time, Nanny, and dark?”
“Right in the middle of the night and that notion to take a walk was the death of him.”
“How’s that?”
“He bumped into a bad crowd. And nothing less than beat the life out of him, is what they did.”
“Why would they do that?”
“There’s a queer lot there in Glasgow who hate the sight of the Irish.” Then looking at Kait’s worried face, she said quickly, “It doesn’t happen now, it’s a mighty long time since Marteen went tattie hawking.”
“But when Marteen died, he couldn’t keep his promise and pay me.”
“Sure, you didn’t mind if he didn’t, did you?”
“I didn’t but as he forgot to say Le Cuige Dé, he had to come back.”
“What’s Le Cuige Dé?”
“With the help of God. When people make a promise and say, ‘With the help of God’ it doesn’t matter if they can’t keep the promise.”
I knew two prayers to keep me from harm. The Act of Contrition so I wouldn’t fall into the burning fires of hell and ‘With the help of God’ to keep my spirit in the next world if I couldn’t keep a promise.
When I went home Mr Delaney was eating Daddy’s Chester cake and telling Mammy Cathal McHugh was down at the Parochial House, legless at usual and cursing at the priest, so he was signed into Ballinacora. I wondered if there was a special prayer Cathal could say to save himself from them locking him up.
Mammy was beating eggs in a bowl and adding warm milk to it because Mr Delaney had shown her how to make French Toast. It is lovely soft bread with sugar on top, but I was getting sick of it because we were having it nearly every evening for tea. When he was leaving, he said, “We’ll never feel until the Bonfire Night and the longest day in the year is on us.”
The days were longer because the sun was staying and not going home until late, and we were able to play outside in the street until the stars came out.
One evening, when I was coming back from playing, Daddy was in the back garden.
“What are you doing, Daddy?”
“Look at the night sky.”
“I want to see it.”
He lifted me up, took my sandals off and put me standing on his shoulders.
“Arlene, reach up to the sky and touch the stars.”
“What stars, Daddy?”
“The Plough.”
I tried to but it was up real high. “I can’t, Daddy. They are too far up.”
“Aye, the land is flat in this part of the country. We’ll go to the Culliagh mountains, near my place, and see if you can reach up higher.”
“When, Daddy, when?”
“One of these days, when you have school holidays, Missy.”
“Alright, Daddy, but that will be soon because it’s summer. Look, I have my sandals and ankle socks on, and Mammy doesn’t tell me to wear my geansaí or cardigan in the morning.”
“Aye, it is weather for summer clothes.”
“Daddy, some girls in my class wear white shoes with tongues but no lacers. Do you know they are called sand shoes?” I was thinking of Úna and Kait, who stopped wearing boots a good while after our communion, but the Home Babies still had their boots on.
“Aye, the cloth is canvas, good for this fine weather.”
The nice weather was making Sr Ignatius nice too. Every day when we came back from the yard and did a few sums, we made a line to go to Castle Fields.
The Home Babies made a different line and went to the Home. They weren’t in Sports Day because they had no mammies and daddies to come and see them on the last day of class.
“Loretta, do you want to hold Regina or Noeleen’s hand in the line?” the nun asked Miss Special as she directed the rest of the class to stand in a line holding another child’s hand. “I want to hold the two of their hands, Sister.”
“Alright, Loretta,” Sr Ignatius let the three of them stand together at the top of the line with Loretta in the middle, holding the other two other girls hands.
“You, Mary Blake, stand beside Evelyn Curry.”
Evelyn Curry was one of the girls who sat on the good side. Her wiry hair was a brown, foxy colour and her eyes were too, with her face full of freckles. She reminded me of Mr Delaney’s fox-terrier dog.
We followed Sr Ignatius through the convent gardens to the Castle Fields with Sister Paul walking at the end of the line.
In the green field, where the big girls played camogie, we practiced the races for Sports Day. We pretended we were holding up a sack and jumped instead of running for the sack-race.
For the egg and spoon race, we ran holding one hand out in front. We were supposed to hold a spoon with an egg balanced on it. On the real Sports Day, we would get the egg and spoon, the nun said.
Sister Paul tied one of my legs to one of Evelyn’s for the one-legged race. Sr Ignatius blew the whistle. We half ran, half jumped to the finishing line, which was the goal post. Every time we stumbled Evelyn held onto me and told me not to fall. She didn’t want us to be like Loretta and her pals. They kept tumbling to the ground and weren’t able to get up until Sister Ignatius helped them.
“Don’t fall, Mary, hold on to me,” she said.
I grabbed her around the waist and trying not to laugh said, “Shut up laughing cos you are shaking and making me wobbly and that’s why I’m falling.”
We had great spraoi. Before we went home, I brought her over to my pals. They were talking about bonfire night. She asked Úna if she could come to the Kilmartin Bonfire cos she lived on Sligo Road. Úna said she would have to help gather stuff for the fire if she wanted to be part of the gang and I told her she had to call me Arlene and not Mary if she wanted to come to the bonfire.
The next day in the yard, Evelyn planned with us how we would go gathering tyres, rags, old newspapers and anything that burned for the fire. After tea I sloped out of my house when Mammy was talking to Batt, the postman, and met my pals at the station. Úna had the pram because she had to mind her little brother and baby sister.
“Can your sister walk, Úna?” Evelyn asked.
“She can. Teresa started walking last year and Brendan knows well how to walk,” Úna said showing off about them.
“When we get the things for the bonfire, we’ll put them in the pram and the children can walk,” Evelyn said taking charge.
“I don’t know about that!” Úna was used to me and Kait doing what she told us to do and she didn’t like Evelyn being the boss. “Teresa’s legs are small. She gets tired quick.”
“Well, we can take turns carrying her, Úna,” Evelyn said.
“I can give Teresa a piggyback, so I can,” said Kait.
“So can I,” I said really quick after Kait.
“Alright. Let’s go to the sawmills first to see if they have any blocks,” Úna said.
Evelyn added, “We’ll ask the man for a bag of sawdust too.”
Me and Kait walked together, say nothing and every now and then we looked at the other two. Úna was used to planning everything for our gang but now she had Evelyn to help her.
We heard Úna boasting to Evelyn she was going to jump over the fire. “My big brother always takes a running jump and leaps over the fire and never gets burned, so I’m going to jump over it too.”
“My brother jumps it too, so he does.”
“Mrs McLoughlin said Jock Connors plays and people dance and sing, so I’m not getting sick this time and going for sure,” I said. remembering how I had missed out on Ducking Night.
“You never said ‘With the help of God.’ so you didn’t,” Kait scolded, so straight away I said the magic words, “With the help Of God.”
From the bike’s shop, we got an old bicycle tyre that had more patches on it than rubber. We put it in beside Teresa. She put her hands around it and brought it to her mouth and started sucking it. Úna told her to stop but she wouldn’t, so we took the baby out and Kait carried her on her back.
Kait was smaller than me and Úna. She looked light and airy like a feather, but she was plucky. That was the word Daddy used for the lads he trained when they played a good game of football.
“Where do we keep the stuff we gather?” Evelyn wanted to know as she picked up a log from the side of the road.
