The House Children

by Heidi Daniele

  Granny arrived around half past eleven. Ryan was two steps ahead of her. He was his usual boisterous self and I was glad to see him. With a fist full of sour lemon candies, he lured Rachel outside to play with him. I sat down beside Granny while Norah poured the tea. They both acted as if the incident last year had never happened. Like the nuns, they weren’t open to talking about anything that made them uncomfortable. Although I wasn’t sure I could talk about it myself, their self-interested silence about the situation annoyed me.

  I wanted to know why Norah didn’t keep me. I wanted to know who my pa was. I wanted to know exactly what the situation was that made her give me to the nuns. I was just getting up the nerve to ask these questions when Rachel came running into the house. She was crying over a scraped knee. Norah quickly got up to comfort her. She washed the scrape and put an ointment on it. I felt cheated, watching her soothe Rachel. My scrapes and bruises went unattended at the industrial school. No one was ever around to soothe me.

  It was a long and difficult day for me. I thought about my past— or rather, what could have been, what should have been. I felt angry, abandoned, and unloved. It took great effort for me to keep these feelings inside. The right time to talk about it never presented itself.

  That evening, Dan surprised the family with a brand new radio. He set it down on the table beside his chair. Like the others, I was curious about the wooden box with two dials and a meshed screen. Ryan questioned his father about the radio and how it worked. Dan said he couldn’t explain how it worked, but promised it would provide great entertainment.

  After supper, we gathered around the radio, waiting for the magic to happen. Dan turned one dial and then the other, tuning into a program he’d selected off the listings sheet. We listened to an hour-long situation comedy about the Foley family, the pretend family that laughed over everyday life. I lost myself listening to the show, imagining myself living with the Foley family in radio land.

  Friday morning the sun was unusually bright, and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. It was rare to have a day like this in Ireland. The weather had a great effect on everyone, including myself. Knowing I was going to see Connor also helped my mood. I helped Norah pack the essentials for a day at the strand. We met up at Eyre Square and boarded the bus. Rachel pulled me into the seat beside her. Connor and Ryan sat behind us.

  At the beach, Norah and Margaret settled themselves on the blanket, while Ryan and Rachel busied themselves building a sand castle.

  Connor was playful, chasing me and then splashing me when we got to the water’s edge. The day was more fun than I could have imagined. We walked along the prom and stopped in a shoppe to buy some sugar twists. When we passed a popular ballroom, Connor twirled me around like we were dancing. He made me feel special. It didn’t matter to him that other people saw us being silly. I was enchanted by his free-spirited nature. While we sat on a bench admiring the Clare Hills directly across the bay, he reached over and took my hand into his. His hand was large and it felt warm. My palm felt sweaty and I hoped he didn’t notice.

  “It’s a beautiful day!” he said.

  “Perfect,” I replied.

  I acted as if it were my first time seeing the Galway Bay. I was completely enamored by everything he said and did.

  In the evening I was tired from the sun and the water, but still excited after being in Connor’s company. Spending time with him was worth every bit of discomfort I’d felt during this trip. Norah certainly didn’t make me feel wanted, but Connor did.

  The house was full on Saturday afternoon. Eight of us fit tightly around the table, enjoying another meal Norah prepared. I sat between Connor and Granny. She took my hand and tucked a shilling into my palm. “Before I forget,” she said. I felt a pang of endearment toward her and gave her a gentle hug.

  We listened to Margaret share stories about Connor as a young boy. He blushed with embarrassment when she referred to him as “my baby.”

  “Oh, Margaret! Ya’ve got ta stop. Look at him, he’s no baby boy, sure he’s nearly a man!” said Norah.

  James interjected, “Ah, she’s frettin about him goin inta the Air Force.”

  “Tis hard ta let go of a child,” Granny chimed in.

  Connor excused himself from the table.

  “Sure, once they’re done with their schoolin, ya’ve gotta let em go,” said Norah.

  I got up to follow Connor and as I left the room Margaret snapped at Norah.

  “Listen ta yerself! It’s as if yer not clingin ta Peg!”

  I was unsure what to make of that comment. It certainly didn’t feel like Norah was clinging to me in any way.

  I sat down next to Connor by the shed.

  “They’re a tough lot in there,” he said.

  I nodded. We sat quietly, each drawn into our own thoughts. Thoughts about Margaret’s comment were quickly wiped away. Instead I thought about the boy sitting beside me. I felt physically drawn toward him. I wanted to touch him, and smell him.

  “I’m thinkin about going ta America,” I said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be done with school another two years.”

  “You should,” he said with a smile that melted my heart.

  Sunday was the last day of my trip. I put on my favorite frock, combed my hair and pinched my cheeks to give them color. We were meeting the Coogans at mass.

  They were already seated in the church, two pews ahead of us. During communion I made eye contact with Connor when I passed him in the aisle. We exchanged a nod and a smile.

  After mass, everyone headed back to the house, Connor and I trailing behind. Margaret helped Norah prepare a big Irish breakfast. I imagined this is what a family celebration would feel like. There was music on the radio, the aroma of bacon in the air, and lots of laughing and conversation. I’d just finished my second cup of tea when Norah pointed to the clock. It was time for me to leave. Reluctantly, I gathered my things from the bedroom.

  I went around the table and said goodbye to everyone. Leaving Connor for last.

  He rose from his seat and pushed his plate aside. “I’ll walk Peg to the station.”

  My heart pounded with delight. Glancing at the clock, I knew there wasn’t much time. I had to meet up with Siobhan and her aunt. We walked so fast, it was difficult to talk. The train was already boarding when we arrived.

  “Just in time!” Connor said. I looked around for Siobhan and her aunt. They were nowhere in sight.

  Connor handed me my satchel. “I’ll bet she’s on the train already.”

  We stood there looking at each other. My responsibility for Siobhan fell to the wayside. Connor had my full attention. I was looking into his eyes. He lifted his hand and took hold of my chin and drew me to him. His soft lips gently pushed into mine and I had my first kiss. I felt an urgency to grab hold of him and pull him closer to me; I resisted. The train whistle blew and I jumped onto the train.

  “I’ll see ya in America,” he said. His face disappeared behind the automatically closing doors. I rushed into the car to look out of a window. He stood on the platform and waved. When I lost sight of him, I brought my hand to my lips, trying to hold on to his kiss for as long as I could. The connection I felt with him left me wanting more.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  T hankfully, I found Siobhan on the platform in Ballinasloe. I reprimanded her for boarding the train without me.

  “I don’t want ya ta get a whippin!” I said to scare her. Then I assured her that Sister Constance wouldn’t learn about the situation from me. Hopefully, Siobhan’s aunt wouldn’t notify the convent. I knew if the nuns found out I wasn’t with her, it was me that would be in trouble. I gave Siobhan a toffee.

  The two of us stood silently in front of the blue door at the convent. Finally, Katie appeared and let us in. The sight of her made me cringe: scraggly hair, rotten teeth, nails bitten to the quick. I walked down the corridor behind her. I could see the oppressive weight she carried.

  I put my things away and sat down on th
e bed. I wanted to cry. Fifty beds, all the same, not a single personal item in view. Angry voices, of frustrated girls fighting in the yard, rose to the open windows. Their sudden silence told me Sister Constance had just made an appearance. I didn’t want to go out there.

  A few minutes later, Katie was ringing the handbell. I stopped halfway down the staircase and watched the girls rush toward the refectory. Pushing and shoving each other, they looked like a herd of animals dressed in gray farm clothes.

  I sat down next to Patsy.

  “I’m so glad yer back.”

  “I’m not,” I said, pushing away the tin bowl of rabbit stew. I hated that smell.

  “Did ya have a good time?” Patsy asked.

  I told her about Connor. She listened politely.

  “I miss him already!”

  “I don’t mean ta burst yer bubble Peg, but he lives in America!”

  “Well, I’m goin ta America as soon as I get my Leavin Cert!”

  “What makes ya think yer gettin a Leavin Cert?”

  I looked at Patsy cross-eyed.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “As soon as we turn fifteen, they’ll be sendin us out on our situation! Do ya really think they’d keep us here so we could finish school?”

  My heart sank. She was right!

  At first I felt devastated at the thought of not getting my Leaving Certicate. Then it occurred to me that I’d be out of here sooner than I’d expected. At least I’d have an Intermediate Certificate.

  My mind was consumed with thoughts of going to America and being with Connor. My new obsession with him diluted my previous desire to be part of the Hanley family. Of course, that would always be in the back of my mind; but Connor made me feel loved, unlike Norah.

  Thankfully, I was back in the china press for the rest of the summer. I’d become less tolerant of the industrial school environment and the other house children. I preferred being alone. Sitting in the small closet, I thought about the things I did with Connor. Sometimes, I’d daydream about a future with him. Other days, I wondered what he was doing and who he was with. There were also those days I wondered if he thought about me, and if he did, what was it he thought. Those were the worst days. I’d feel the deep shame rise within me. No decent person would love a house child.

  Fortunately, Mother Bernard still sent me out on errands. Walking through Saint Michael’s Square was a pleasant diversion from my own thoughts. I’d look for Erin, hoping to find her so we could sit and chat. She was a happy person, and I’d always leave her company with food for thought. I considered Erin to be quite knowledgeable about life and society. She was someone in “the know.”

  It was a week before the start of school when we met up at the post office.

  “I’ll be done in the china press at the end of the week.”

  “I’ll miss seeing ya,” said Erin. “Yer so lucky ta be gettin an education.”

  “I’ll only be gettin an Intermediate Cert.”

  “At least ya won’t have ta be a skivvy!”

  “I thought ya liked workin fer Dr. Dylan.”

  “It started out wonderful. Then bit by bit, he started loadin me up with more work. I can barely manage!”

  “At least ya get ta see yer mam,” I said in an effort to comfort her.

  “Sometimes, I get so angry at my brothers fer takin off ta America and leaving me and mam alone.”

  “Maybe ya’ll go ta America one day, too. That’s what I want ta do!”

  “Tisn’t so easy!” Erin said. “Ya need a sponsor in America ta do yer papers and vouch fer ya. Plus ya need big money fer yer fare.”

  I returned to the convent with a new mission. Instead of dreaming about seeing Connor in America, I’d start working toward getting myself there.

  August 30, 1951

  Dear Auntie Hannah,

  How are you? I hope you enjoyed your summer. I had a lovely holiday in Galway. The Coogans were visiting while I was there and came for tea almost every day. Connor told me about life in America and said he thinks I’d like it there. He told me there’s lots of people from Ireland living in New York.

  I’m excited to return to school on Monday. I’ve made some nice friends. Some of them plan on going to America once they earn their certificates.

  Most of the girls from the industrial school are sent to clean hospitals in Dublin. Hopefully, with my Intermediate Certificate, I’ll get a decent position. This way I can save money and go to America. I understand there is a lot of paperwork involved.

  If you have any suggestions please let me know.

  Godspeed,

  Peg

  August 30, 1951

  Dear Connor,

  I had such a wonderful time with you in Galway. You are so easy to talk to and fun to be with. It was so thoughtful of you to walk me to the station. I want you to know, that meant a lot to me.

  All the things you’ve told me about America make it sound so appealing. I understand that I’d need a sponsor of some sort to go there. Do you know anything about that?

  Please write to me at the address on the envelope instead of sending it to Galway. I’m sure you are busy and excited about starting your last year in school.

  Tell your parents I said hello.

  Fondly,

  Peg

  PS I wanted to write to you sooner, but I knew you weren’t returning home until the end of summer.

  That night I felt satisfied when I went to bed. I was putting things in motion to change my life.

  On Monday morning, I happily took a seat at the boarders’ table in the refectory. The girls shared stories about their summer adventures. Tara got everyone’s attention when she announced that she’d kissed a boy. Everyone gasped with delight. I couldn’t help it and boasted about the time I’d spent with Connor. They were very impressed that an American boy took an interest in me. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was “less than” around them. Connor boosted my self-esteem in many ways.

  The only discomfort I felt about my status, or lack of it, spiked whenever I ran into Mary. Sometimes, I felt like she purposely crossed my path to remind me of who I really was. Making eye contact with her always left me feeling guilty.

  This year, our lessons were very rigorous and required additional study time. It was a critical year for me, since I was preparing to take the Intermediate Certificate exam.

  Although I was busy with my studies, thoughts about Connor and going to America still loomed. Periodically, I’d check with Sister Xavier to see if I had any mail. Each time, she’d give me a weak smile and say, “Sorry Peg, I haven’t seen anything come in for you.”

  It was a chilly day at the end of October. After dressing in my uniform, with time to spare, I pulled out my clothes box and placed it on the bed. I took the old cards and letters from Connor out of my purse. Patsy came over and sat down beside me while I reread them.

  “Ah, Peg, forget about him. Twas a summer thing.”

  I threw her a dirty look and put them back into my purse.

  “What’s in there?” Patsy asked. She removed the lid of the box Norah had sent last year and pulled out the sweater.

  “This is gorgeous!”

  I took it out of her hands and placed it back in the box.

  “Why aren’t ya wearin it? That’ll keep ya warm!”

  Patsy was right.

  I slipped my arms into the soft navy wool sleeves. It fit me perfectly. During breakfast Tara admired my sweater and asked where I’d gotten it from.

  “My mam made it,” I said, shocking myself with my own words.

  Patsy’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. She was smart enough not to pry and never asked me about it. Erin and Mary were the only two that knew Norah Hanley was my mam.

  My disappointment grew with every day that passed without any word from Connor. Feelings of despair and devastation set in. It took great effort to continue with my school work.

  It wasn’t until mid-December that mail arrived for me. It was a Christmas card f
rom Auntie Hannah. She enclosed a very generous American twenty-dollar bill and a brief note. The note said she was planning a holiday to Ireland during the summer and looked forward to seeing me. I felt discouraged that she didn’t offer any help or even acknowledge my mention of going to America.

  The Christmas holiday brightened around me, and my mood grew darker. The boarders returned to their homes and I became a house child again.

  Four days before Christmas, a package arrived from Norah. It contained a red sweater, drawings of a nativity scene from Ryan and Rachel, and a card that she signed,’Love, Mother.’ Reading those words ignited a feeling of turmoil inside of me again. I wanted to hate her. I wanted to love her. Maybe if I could just understand her. Understand why she did what she did.

  After our Christmas breakfast, I found myself sitting with Mary in the back of the rec room. We watched the girls dancing under the garland hung by Sister Angela. She still did her best to make the room festive.

  “So this is our last Christmas here,” said Mary.

  “Thank God,” I said.

  “When do ya leave?”

  “Sometime in June,” said Mary. “How about you?”

  “August,” I said.

  “I hope I get sent ta Saint Vincent’s Hospital in Dublin. That’s where Theresa works,” said Mary.

  “That’d be nice,” I said. “I’d like ta go ta Dublin, too.”

  “I heard yer goin ta America.”

  “Who told ya that?”

  Mary shrugged her shoulders and smiled.

  “Did ya work things out with that woman in Galway?”

  I shook my head no.

  We sat for a while not speaking a word. I felt the kinship Mary and I shared over the years resurface. I reached for her hand and squeezed it. She returned the squeeze. Uninvited tears surfaced.

  “Ya know, Mary, all I ever wanted was ta have a regular family. Live a normal life!”