by Orna Ross
"Don't talk soft, it's only starting. And it will be no frolic."
He shrugged, which was irritating. But then maybe it was different for him. He was used to people not thinking a whole lot of him. That could be a strength in this situation. For herself, she was finding it hard. Bringing Norah back was bad, marrying him was worse, but now, adding this child to the mix. They would be full out for her now.
In Mucknamore it didn't matter too much what you did, so long as you managed to keep it hidden. It was going open that got you punished.
And she would have nobody to share the trouble of that. She had to keep a good show up in front of her parents and Norah, and not let poor Tipsy down either. He was the one she failed on most often.
Peg held out her arms for him to give her back the child. As she looked into the little sleeping face, she immediately felt better. The purity of a child's repose would calm any demon. "We'd better put a name on her," she said. "We can't keep calling her 'she'."
"The nun called her Mary, didn't she?"
Peg snorted. "The nuns call them all Mary."
"Not Mary, then?"
"Norah and I were thinking of Maureen?"
"Heh?"
"'Little Máire'. Maureen."
"After your mother, is it?"
"Norah likes the idea. She thinks the world of Mammy. What do you think?"
"Maureen?" He put his head to one side, considering it. "I'd better prefer Josephine."
Josephine? Did he not realise she was only doing him the courtesy of asking? "Where did you get that?"
"It's my own mother's name."
"Is it? I never knew that."
"Do you like it?"
"Em...I think it would be hard on the child. She's already used to Mary, Josephine might be a bit different for her to get used to. Whereas Maureen is like enough."
"Ye have it stitched up between ye, so." He turned back to the window. Outside, it was pure black and he couldn't be looking at anything except raindrops trailing across the window. After a time, he turned back to her. "We'll have to think how we can keep the child away from your mammy." The words tumbled out of him in a rush, giving the impression that he had been waiting to say this to her and had decided he might as well say it now, while she was cross with him anyway.
"What do you mean?"
"She can't be brought too near."
So it had not been her imagination, the way she thought she'd seen him avoiding Máire. How to explain to him that you couldn't let the illness her mother had rule your own life? How to make him understand that there was no accounting for who got struck down? Look at herself, healthy as a sand-boy, after living with it for years. The disease picked its own. And all the precautions were taken, the house kept ventilated and disinfected daily. "She'll be well minded," she said, pulling the blanket tighter round the baby. "You needn't worry yourself about that."
He turned away again. Was she being fair? A child was different, he was right there — a child was more open to every class of sickness. And she didn't like the sharpness she could hear in her own tone.
Amends.
"Would you like to hold her again for a while?" she asked, in a different voice.
He turned back with a smile. The poor chap, it was too easy to be offhand. She'd have to watch herself or she'd end up walking all over him. Considering that none of this was his idea, that just wouldn't be fair. She'd have to pray for God's help on it.
"You don't mind the name, do you?" she said.
He couldn't resist her, of course. "I think it's a grand name," he smiled. "Fine by me."
The train trundled onwards towards Mucknamore.
Back at the house, Máire got up from her place by the fire as they came in, but Norah, who had been sitting opposite, stayed put. Peg could see the questions glowing in her eyes, though she could see too that another person who didn't know her so well would probably notice nothing.
"She's here, Norah," Peg said, looking down at the bundle in her arms. "She's here and she's lovely."
"Come, Norah," said Máire. "Come look."
Norah stood up, but made no move to come forward, so Peg crossed the room to her instead. As she took the blanket from the baby's face, the little girl's eyes opened to her new surroundings.
"Ah, look at her," said Mrs Parle, from a distance. "The little dote."
Norah looked like someone who'd been struck. She took a step backwards and Peg followed her, holding out the child to her. When Norah made no attempt to take her, she plonked her down into her arms.
"We've fixed on Maureen," she said, with a smile for her mother. "Tipsy liked it too."
Norah was holding the child like you'd hold a dead animal: with straight arms, out from her body. The child, feeling the strangeness of the position, or maybe of the person holding her, was beginning to wriggle.
"Pull her in close, Norah, and give her a little rock," Peg sad. "She loved the rocking of the train and of the trap on the way home."
But Norah didn't do anything. She made no soft words or sounds, gave her no hugs or little strokes. The child started to whimper, low first, then gathering air and noise.
"Norah! Hold her closer to you." Peg folded her arms, mimed a rocking motion to show what she meant. "She feels like she is going to fall, I think."
The baby started to scream, her face growing red, her forehead wrinkling up.
"Do you want me to take her from you, Norah? Just hand her over if that's what you want. No? Then pull her into you, give her a hug. Do it now, Norah, because she's getting very upset. You want me to take her? That's all right, that's fine, just put her in my arms. Good girl. That's it. You've plenty of time to get to know each other, don't you? Of course you do. There, there little one. No need to cry. That's your Auntie Norah. Yes, it is. Let's get you out of that wet nappy and then you'll be in a better mood for your auntie. We gave you a fright, didn't we? Silly us. No need to cry, though. No need to cry."
The child's sobbing began to subside. When the storm had eased, Peg laid her down on the small rug in front of the fire where she could watch the flickering of the flames. Her mother heated a small bowl of water with a drop from the kettle, took the new bar of soap and new cloth that was all ready and waiting, and laid them on the floor beside Peg.
The baby was cleaned and changed and bundled into a night-suit. She opened her jaws into a little yawn, stuck her fists into her eyes.
From the far side of the room, Peg's mother was entranced. "Ah, would you look, she's tired out, the creature."
Peg asked Norah if she wanted to try again. She got no answer.
"I think I'll take her on up to bed," Peg said.
"You're right," Máire agreed. "A good night's sleep is what you all need."
"Do you want to come up with me, Norah?"
Norah was at the window now, looking out at the night. Peg exchanged a look with her mother, then went and took her by the arm. "Come on, Norah. It's time to go up." With her hand on Nora's elbow and the baby up on her shoulder, she led the way to the stairs.
It was only later, after she had the two of them in bed, that she remembered Tipsy and wondered whether he was all right, left downstairs with her mother.
* * *
Diary 10th December.
I'm so agitated I can hardly write, but I have to. I'll try to tell it all, just as it happened. The afternoon started well enough with me managing to escape for a walk on the strand. The weather is so strange these past days, like a thick cloud has sunk to earth. I could hardly see two feet in front of me, the fog was that bad, but it felt good to be out of the house, to be on my own, to breathe. I felt like the fog had been created just for me, to cut me off and aid me in my longing for a bit of time alone.
To find the sea, I had to go right down to the edge of the water. It looked like a frill of lace on a roll of grey. Walking along, I was struck by the impulse to paddle in the water. It was late in the year for such a thing but unseasonably, strangely warm, so I decided to risk
it and hitched up my skirt to unfasten my stockings. The fog gave me protection, knowing nobody could see me in my pocket of mist.
It was lovely, but I couldn't stay long. I'd left Norah in charge of Maureen with instructions to Tess and Daddy to keep an eye on both of them. I had a string of jobs waiting for me once I got back: the evening meal to prepare for them all, reading to do for Mammy and two sheets to be repaired as well as whatever else might present itself. Little Maureen is always at her crankiest in the evenings and Norah would be put out if I stayed away too long. I had my shoes back on and was beginning to walk back across the sand when I heard my father calling me.
This put the heart crossways in me.
"What's wrong? What's wrong?" I shouted back.
"Come quick."
I hurried towards his voice. When we found each other, we were that close that we nearly collided. "What is it?"
"Dan O'Donovan is here."
"Dan?"
"Talking to his sister. I thought I better come get you. I think he's upsetting her."
I ran as best I could through the mist. When I got to the kitchen nobody was there, except the baby all alone, sitting on the floor having pulled anything loose down onto the floor beside her. She looked up at me all guilty as I came crashing in, one of the antimacassars stuffed in her mouth.
"You little divil," I said, bending and scooping her up into my arms, and going through into the bar. Tess was behind the counter. Pat Duggan and a few others were in. I just gave them a nod and retreated; it was obvious that neither Norah nor Dan had been there, they were all too calm.
Back in the kitchen, Daddy was coming in. "They're not here, either of them," I said. "What was going on between them, Daddy? How did he get in?"
"He must have come round by the back. When I came in to check on Norah and the baby, like you asked, I found him here. I asked him what he was doing and he said, 'I've come to see my sister and I want to speak to her in private.' That's when I thought I'd better get you. I'd have called your mother but —" He ran a crabbed hand across his scalp.
My mind was racing, wondering where they might have got to. Could Norah have agreed to go home with him? Would she just up and off like that? I didn't think so, but if Dan wasn't taking no for an answer...
Daddy said: "The girl was trembling, whatever he was saying to her. He's a right bully, that fellow."
That made up my mind. I planted Maureen into Daddy's arms and told him to mind her until I got back.
"Where are you going?" he asked me.
"I'm going to O'Donovan's to see if he's brought her up there."
"Peg!"
"If he can come down to our place, I can go up to his."
"But —"
"Daddy, I'm not leaving her alone with them. She's not strong enough. Look after Maureen and I'll be back as quick as I can."
The fog that was a comfort to me a short time before now felt like something teasing, on the side of the enemy. I was breathing water instead of air, like I was drowning in my own breath. As I rounded the corner by the side of the house, a shape materialised like a ghost. My hand flew up to my heart.
"You!" I said.
He was startled too, but he composed himself quicker. "Yes, me. I've come to see my sister. That's not a crime, is it?"
"I don't know," I replied. "Has the Free State made it one yet?" I was pretty pleased with that reply and didn't give him a chance to frame an answer. "Where is she?" I demanded. "What have you done to her?"
"She's gone running off. I tried to stop her but I couldn't see a blasted thing in this fog."
"Running off? Where?"
"Not too far, I'd say." Then he spoke in a squeaky voice, imitating what Norah must have said to him: "'This is my home now.'"
"And so it is."
He throws up his eyes. "You're not doing her any favours, Peg, if you think you are."
I snorted. "And you are, I suppose? Why don't you just go on home, Dan, and leave us alone?"
"Ooooh, listen to that! We weren't always so unwelcoming, were we?"
That is what he said to me, I swear it, and he meant it as bad as it sounded. I wanted to dig my nails into his face until they drew blood. I wanted to catch his hair between my fingers and tear it out off his scalp. But I turned on my heel. Norah was the important thing. There was nothing left between me and him anyway.
"Wait a minute!" he called after me. "You might as well know, my family want my sister placed where she can be properly looked after."
I walked back to him. "Return her to the asylum?"
"It's the best place for her."
"You can't do that to her."
"We most certainly can. It's her family's decision, as you well know."
"And what about Norah? Is she to have no say?"
"She's not fit to decide."
"That's not true."
"But it is true, isn't it, Peg? She hasn't been right since she came home, has she? And it's not any better she's getting, is it, but worse?"
"You're only thinking of yourselves, not her —"
"And what sort of concern have you shown her, bringing her into a house with consumption? I suppose you forgot that little detail when you were talking to the asylum bosses. That mother of yours should have been sent to a sanatorium long ago. It's not right that she should be kept here, in a public house. It's not safe."
Even after all he's done to us, I couldn't believe he was being so cruel.
"Oh, yes," I cried, "You'd have her sent away too. You'd like to send all your problems off like they don't exist."
"It's common sense, woman. It's —"
"Get out of here now, Dan. I'm not letting you stay here one moment longer. Go back to your traitor's barracks and let us be."
"I'm not the one going anywhere, Peg."
Something in his voice alerted me. What did he mean?
"No, it's home to Mucknamore I'm coming. I'm getting a transfer to the Civic Guards and, as I'm also getting married, my father has kindly donated a bit of his land to put up a house. It's not me who'll be going anywhere."
So he was to marry Agnes Whitty, the Cumann na Saoirse girl, one of those girls who stood for nothing except her own advancement, and bring her to live in Mucknamore. "Live where you like, with whoever you like," I said. "It's nothing to us so long as you leave us in peace."
"But it's hardly that simple, is it? I can tell you that it is only with the greatest effort that I have kept my father from coming down to this house. He's not happy to let this lie and neither am I. I have no intention of living up the road from it."
I looked at him, the man who killed my brother, the man who was once our friend, and I wondered how he had managed to tuck the knowledge of all he had done away, where it cost him no trouble.
"Look at you," I said, nearly more to myself than him. "Look at what your foul little war has done to you."
"Jesus," he said, bursting into one of his crowing, jeering laughs. "That's a good one. Have you taken a look in the mirror lately?"
We faced each other down, the fog greying the air between us, stared each other out of it for so long that, to our own surprise, our hostility waned. We couldn't hold it up: the understanding we had once shared could not be reduced to single-minded dissension.
I was first to weaken, to take a chance and appeal to the better nature I felt must be there still, somewhere, within him. "Dan, please...Stop this persecution of Norah. Have some feeling..."
"No, you stop, Peg," he said, but more gentle. "Stop fooling yourself that your actions are for my sister when really it's revenge you're after, revenge against me and my family. Revenge for something I never even did."
"I wish I could believe that," I whispered.
"It's the truth, Peg. I've told you. If Barney had come out when called, he'd be alive today. And whoever fired the bullet that killed him, it wasn't me."
I wanted to cry then. I wanted to tell him that I had forgotten nothing, not a single blessed thing that had passed bet
ween us.
"The problem with you die-hards is you think people who aren't going round ranting and raving have no feelings at all."
"But Norah..."
"Ah yes, Norah." With that, our moment passed. He changed back to the soldier-in-charge. "I have to tell you, Peg, that Norah is not going to be a pawn in this any longer. The asylum is the proper place for her and the asylum is where she's going."
"Dan..."
He held up his hand. "No more about it. As she won't talk to her own family, you can pass her on a message." Here he paused for effect. "You can tell her that I'll be back to get this sorted and soon. And this time she'd better cooperate."
And with that he took his leave.
It took me a while after he left to get moving, and then I spent nearly half an hour looking for Norah before I found her in the bottling store, hiding among the stacked cases. She wouldn't come out when I called her so I had to get in beside her to coax. No matter what I said, or how I tried, she was dumb. I could get no good out of her until in the end I lost my patience. "Please, Norah," I snapped, "How can anyone help you if you won't let them? Don't be so selfish."
She cried then, the first time I'd seen her cry since she came to us from the asylum, and really and truly, they were tears I was glad to see. They felt more natural than that desperate silence of hers. After a time, as if a blockage flowed away with the weeping, she spoke. "I'll have to go away again."
"No, you won't. Why should you?"
"He'll make me."
"He can't make you. How can he? You have us to protect you now. Come on back to the house and try to forget about it. Everything will turn out all right, you'll see."
So I said, though I couldn't see how myself.
"Things are never as bad as they seem," I said, and it wasn't just her I was trying to convince.
"I can't be here if he's here, Peg."
"I know it's hard, and to tell you the truth, I don't much fancy the thoughts of it myself, but —"
"No, you don't understand. I can't stay if Dan is here." She gripped me by the wrist and turned two wet eyes on me. Something in her words knocked me back.
"What do you mean, Norah?" I asked. "What are you saying to me?"
