The House Children

by Heidi Daniele

  I thanked her, and gave her half of my banana.

  “Yer frock is lovely, Peg,” said Sheila.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ve another one in my bag.”

  “Peg, ya know ya can’t keep em. Sister Constance won’t have it. She’ll say ya fancy yerself, and ya can’t have somethin special the other girls can’t have. She likes ta keep us all the same.”

  As I took the last bite of my banana, I knew that Sheila was right again, and my holiday was over.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I was back in farm clothes the next day, sitting in the yard that seemed even smaller than before. Going to Galway had been like visiting another world, and I yearned to return there. The most frus- trating thing was keeping the details about my trip to myself, knowing that if I shared them with Mary, she would build a resentment toward me. So during the day, I acted like my holiday was no big deal, but at night in bed, I pined to return to the Hanleys’ house.

  The last two weeks of July were rough as I readjusted to the routine and terrible meals. Other than going to Saint Michael’s for confession and taking our Sunday walk to the train station, our summer days were confined to the yard. Toward the end of the summer, Theresa, Mary’s big sister, offered to teach us how to knit. We sat against the back wall with the older girls, making socks for the upcoming school year. I hated it—my black yarn was always hopelessly twisting in knots—but I enjoyed being around the older girls. One afternoon, as Theresa tried to untangle my mess, Sheila came over to talk to us.

  “Did ya hear? A slew of girls are comin in from Saint Joe’s in Cavan.”

  “Why are they comin here?” Theresa asked.

  “Somethin about a fire burnin down their dorms.”

  During supper everyone was whispering about it.

  “Twas a terrible fire!”

  “Some of em got killed!”

  “The bloody nuns locked em up in the dorms and they couldn’t get out.”

  “Twasn’t the Mercy nuns, twas the Poor Clares!”

  That evening, during the rosary, I spotted the Cavan girls sitting together in a back corner of the rec room. After we finished praying, Sister Constance read out new bed and job assignments for everyone. I’d be cleaning her staircase banister with number 6.

  Mary motioned toward the Cavan girls. “Ya must be workin with one of em, 6 was Bridget’s number.”

  I walked over to the sullen group and asked who was number 6. A tall, thin girl, with long, dark hair hanging in her face, came forward from the back of the crowd. She nervously pushed the hair out of her eyes and introduced herself as Joan. She thanked me for coming over and said she’d look for me at breakfast.

  Up in the dorms, the girls moved their belongings to their new bed assignments. A set of twins, Blackie and Brownie Burns, were assigned to the beds to my left. They’d arrived a few weeks ago and I didn’t know them well. Blackie was very bossy over her sister, and when she left the room I went over to talk to Brownie.

  “Why is she always tellin ya what ta do?”

  Brownie smiled and said, “Aw, it’s just her way. She thinks she has ta care fer me, cause our mam is too sick to watch us.”

  It was the first night I didn’t think about Galway. More girls than usual were crying, and I figured it was the girls from Cavan and tried to imagine what it was like for them.

  The next morning Joan sat across from Mary and me in the refectory and told us about the fire.

  “Twas terrible. The heat was unbearable, and flames were comin up through the floor from the laundry.”

  She pushed the hair off her face, leaned across the table and whispered, “The locals were outside yellin fer the nuns ta open the door, and Sister Amelia ignored them, tellin us ta go upstairs.”

  “Why didn’t she open the door?”

  “She didn’t want us goin outside in our sleepin gowns.”

  Mary looked at her skeptically, “Then how’d ya get out?”

  “My sister Aisling pushed Sister Amelia ta the floor, grabbed her key and unlocked the door. Twas sheer panic!”

  “Where’s yer sister now?”

  “I don’t know, they split us up and shipped us ta different places.”

  While I diligently worked my way down the staircase, polishing my side of the banister, Joan rambled on about the fire, even though we weren’t supposed to be talking. Out in the yard I complained about working with her and Mary warned me, “Ya better tell her ta shut her trap or ya’ll both be gettin the strap!”

  On the first day of Primary School, I was anxious to get our job done quickly, and Joan was taking her time, talking away. We were about halfway down the stairwell when I heard the door from Saint Luke’s Parlor open and the familiar clinking sound of wooden beads hitting a leather strap. I kicked Joan to get her attention and then saw Sister Constance looking up at us from the bottom of the steps. With our rags in our hands, we stood up together and greeted her.

  She began to climb the stairs, and we stepped to the side so she could pass between us. When she reached our step she stopped, and without warning she whipped her arm around and smacked Joan across the face. Joan dropped her rag and her eyes welled up with tears. Then, a moment later, Sister Constance turned to me and swung her enormous hand across my face. She hit me so hard that my ears started to ring. I lifted the oily rag in my hand to my cheek to cool the sting. Sister Constance pointed her big finger at Joan’s rag on the step and said, “Pick that up and get back to work.”

  Mary’s eyes widened when I met her in the yard before going to class.

  “The side of yer face is all red!”

  I tried to cover my cheek with my hair as we walked into our new classroom. Catherine smiled and waved to me, motioning for me take the seat next to her. Her pretty pink dress reminded me of the ones I wore in Galway and I wished that I was wearing one of them now.

  Our Second Class teacher, Sister Vincent, was a soft-spoken nun, known for her leniency. Each morning, before our lesson, she allowed us ample time to settle in and speak briefly with our classmates. In October, while the townsfolk were setting up for the fair, she let us look out of the window each day to see their progress.

  On the Saturday we’d be attending the fair, Mary laid out our plans for the day while we ate breakfast.

  “I think we should go right ta the games, then we’ll go see the animals and maybe stop ta watch the dancers.”

  I nodded my head in agreement. “The rides and games’ll get crowded fast.”

  With our tickets in our hands, we raced to the amusement area and selected our cars on the Dodgem Track, ready to bump into all the other cars as soon as the vendor flipped the control switch. A blonde-headed girl sat in the empty car behind Mary. It was Catherine! When the ride started, we both drove into Mary, causing her car to jerk back and forth several times before she managed to get away from us. Mary was so mad, and when the ride was over, she let me know about it.

  “What’s the matter with ya? We’re not supposed ta be mixen with the town’s children.”

  The following Saturday, we were in the yard knitting when I heard someone calling my name. Mary poked me and pointed upwards. Catherine was looking down at us over the wall. She held out an apple and asked if I wanted it. I jumped up and raised my hands to catch it, but it went over my head, and another girl swooped it off the ground. Catherine disappeared and the girl with my apple gave me a sneering look before biting into it.

  Catherine reappeared and called down to me again, “Hey Peg.”

  She tossed down another apple, and this time I caught it; but a taller girl grabbed it out of my hand. Catherine threw a third one down, this time aiming it at the head of the tall girl eating my apple. Several girls began to gather at the base of the wall, chanting, “Apples, apples, apples!”

  Catherine disappeared again, but the mob grew and their mantra got louder. Mary and I moved away from the commotion and when I looked back, Catherine was on top of the wall dumping a basketful of apples into the yard
. The girls began fighting—pulling hair, punching each other, trying to grab as many apples as they could. We stood back, not wanting to be pulled into the mayhem. Sister Constance came into the yard and rushed toward the crowd, swinging a stick and hitting anyone within her reach, and the ruckus came to a halt.

  “Drop them, now! All of them!” yelled Sister Constance. “You’re like a bunch of tinkers!”

  She scanned the crowd with her steely eyes. “Who’s responsible for this?”

  Several girls looked my way, and one of them pointed at me. “It’s her fault.”

  Sister Constance turned to face me, and Mary took a side-step to put some distance between us. I was terrified as she approached me, my eyes on the stick in her hand.

  “It wasn’t me, Sister Constance,” I trembled in my defense. “Twas my classmate that threw em down.”

  “Your classmate?”

  “Yes, my friend, Catherine O’Meara.”

  “Your friend? Catherine O’Meara is not your friend!”

  I didn’t respond.

  “There is no flirting with the town children!”

  Sister Constance turned to face the crowd behind her.

  “You are house children, and it is strictly forbidden for you to mingle with the town’s children.”

  She turned back to me. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sister Constance.”

  Katie shuffled out to the yard with an empty basket and Sister Constance told her to have the apples picked up and sent to the barn for the animals. Then she glared at me and shook her head.

  “This is what happens when you let girls go on holiday. They come back here forgetting who they are.”

  After that incident, Sister Vincent changed my seat; an extra desk had been added to the last row, where I’d sit with the other house children. It was a terrible week for me, and I knew everyone was talking about what had happened. During my confession, I told the priest that I’d been responsible for the fighting in the yard and felt better after saying penance; but I still didn’t understand what going on holiday had to do with any of it.

  A friendship between Blackie, Brownie, and I began to blossom after I learned they were from Galway. They didn’t know the Hanleys, but they were familiar with Eyre Square and the shoppes in town.

  It was pouring rain on a Saturday afternoon in November, and Sister Constance let us stay inside, so Brownie and I sat in the rec room having one of our Galway chats. Katie surprised us and let us use the gramophone so we could sing and dance. Brownie was a great dancer, and I tried to copy her, putting my hands on my hips and then waving them up in the air. When she dropped to the floor and started twisting and shaking, I thought she was playing around; but suddenly, her eyes rolled back in her head and white foam started oozing from her mouth. I knelt down beside her and screamed for help, and the other girls stepped back, forming a circle around us. Blackie came right over, and Katie ran out of the room. I thought Brownie was dead until I saw she was peeing, so I stood up and took a step back. Katie returned with Sister Constance and the two of them picked up Brownie by her limbs. Before leaving the room, Sister Constance sent one of the girls into town to get Dr. Green and told Blackie to clean up the pee.

  When Blackie finished mopping the floor, someone put the music back on, but only one girl got up to dance. She fell to the floor and started imitating Brownie, and Blackie ran over and started kicking the girl violently. I stepped out in the hallway and flicked the light switch when I saw Dr. Green and Sister Constance heading toward me. Sister Constance looked at me questioningly and I told her I had to use the lavatory. As I walked away I overheard Dr. Green talking.

  “If she has another seizure, someone should press her tongue down with a stick or a spoon so she doesn’t choke ta death.”

  The following day, I pinched a spoon during breakfast and gave it to Blackie.

  Classes came to an end in December, and I was distressed to learn that a few girls were sent home for the holiday. When Mary asked me what was wrong, I told her that I’d wished Mrs. Hanley had asked for me to come and spend Christmas with them.

  “Yer lucky ya went in the summer. Twas just three or four girls that went for Christmas! And they went home to their families.”

  I felt she didn’t understand.

  “The Hanleys don’t have children, I could be their child!”

  “People want their own, not some house child.”

  I tried to make the best of the Christmas celebration, but my thoughts kept returning to the Hanleys and my fantasy of living with them.

  In January, the weather was cold and wet when we returned to our classes. Mary and I linked arms and ran up the lane, jumping over icy puddles to keep our feet dry. During class, I’d look with envy at the rubber boots some of the town’s children wore. We’d just be rid of the chill in our bones, and the announcement would come over the speaker, “House children stand. House children go.”

  Our spirits waned during the damp and wintry cold months of February and March. Unless it was raining, our free time was spent outside, huddled in groups to stay warm. We looked forward to April, which would bring us the celebration of Easter and warmer days.

  It was during one of those warmer days when we were called inside on a Saturday afternoon and sent to the rec room. Katie weighed and measured each one of us, and Sister Xavier updated our records. Later that same week, some of the girls were held back from class to help organize and clean, while others were fitted for new issues of clothing. I finally learned what was going on one morning.

  “They’re gettin ready fer inspections.”

  “At least we’ll be eatin good fer a day or two.”

  “Tis all a big show!”

  “Let me get a word with the inspector; I’ll tell her what’s goin on in here.”

  Sure enough, the following week, a professional-looking woman toured the Primary School with Reverend Mother Bernard, the Mother Superior in charge of the nuns and the facilities they ran in Ballinasloe. They came to our classroom and Ellen and I were asked to stand and recite part of our lesson aloud. When we were done, the inspector wrote something on her clipboard before leaving the room.

  We were given a hearty helping at mealtime and the inspector looked pleased when she came out of the kitchen with Sister Constance and Sister Virginia.

  The girls rolled their eyes and dug into their meal, while sharing what they knew.

  “That’s Dr. Walsh, she’s the inspector from the government.”

  “She’s the one who approves the headage count fer the nuns’ payment.”

  “Payment fer what?”

  “Fer carin fer us!”

  Even though it wasn’t Tuesday, we had a singing lesson with Sister Angela and the inspector was there to listen, and in the evening, she saw us get served bread with butter and jam instead of drippins. That night when we went up to the dorms, Katie and Julia were pulling white spreads off all the beds.

  The next day, everything was back to normal, until Sister Constance summoned me in from the yard.

  “You have a visitor in Saint Luke’s Parlor. I’ve given permission for you to go into town for a few hours.”

  “Thank you, Sister Constance.”

  “Peg, I expect you’ll be on your best behavior, and don’t let this privilege go to your head.”

  She didn’t tell me who my visitor was, but I walked as fast as I could, without running, down the hall to Saint Luke’s. Through the glass door, I could see her. It was Mrs. Hanley! We greeted each other with smiles and she gave me a warm hug. I held her hand as we left the building and walked into town, and I hoped that one of my classmates would see me. It was a warm, sunny day, and it felt like I was on holiday in Galway, except for my clothes, but I didn’t care. We looked in the shoppe windows and admired the lovely floral patterns on the dishes, and we went into Phelan’s Sweet Shoppe and bought a bag of caramels. Then we went into Saint Michael’s Church and lit a candle, and I thanked God for her visit. The time w
ent by quickly and I tried to walk slowly as we headed back, but I could see Mrs. Hanley was in a hurry.

  “I’ve got ta catch the 3:40 train.”

  We said goodbye in Saint Luke’s Parlor, and even though it was bold of me, before she left, I had to ask her, “Mrs. Hanley, will I be seein ya again?”

  She patted me on the head. “Of course, Peg, we’ll see ya again fer holiday in the summer.”

  As she walked out the door, I ran over to the window and watched her rush down the path. She looked back and we waved to each other. When she was out of sight, I sat down on a chair in the parlor and felt like crying, but didn’t. If Sister Constance saw me crying, she might not allow Mrs. Hanley to visit me again.

  Knowing I’d be going back to stay with the Hanleys in Galway for holiday lifted my spirits, and the rest of the school year didn’t go by fast enough for me.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  M any of the girls dreaded the end of the school year, but I was thrilled when it finally arrived. The first few weeks of the summer lagged as I waited to hear the announcement about summer holiday. Even though Mrs. Hanley said I was going to Galway, until Sister Constance called my number, I couldn’t be sure.

  When I showed the girls my train ticket, Blackie said it wasn’t fair, but Brownie said it didn’t matter, because they’d be back in Galway soon enough. As expected, Mary made another snide remark. “It’s only a week. I don’t know what the big deal is!”

  I packed my things and included my communion medal, holding onto the bit of hope that the Hanleys might decide to keep me.

  At the station, I was the only girl on the westbound platform. The others were all going east. During the train ride, I thought about things to do that might make the Hanleys really like me. I got excited when the sparkling blue water finally came into view. As the train pulled into the station, I looked for Mrs. Hanley on the platform.