A Pocket Full of Shells

by Jean Reinhardt

  A strange noise came from behind a nearby bush and James got up to investigate. He grabbed a thick branch and broke it off in one swift movement, at the same time telling his wife to run. Mary did not have to be told twice. She could hear the snarling and snapping of angry dogs. James caught up with her and helped her along, all the while looking back in case they were being chased by the starving animals. Mary came to an abrupt halt, a stitch in her side.

  "I can't … take … another … step," she was out of breath.

  The road behind them was quiet with no sign of the dogs. James suggested they sit for a while to regain their strength.

  "How many were there?" asked Mary, breathing easier.

  "Only two," James said, "They were fighting over something. One of them saw me, but he was having a tug of war with the other dog over an old bone. They won't bother us, you can relax now."

  They sat there for a while lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, something leapt up behind them and landed on Mary's back. Before the scream could leave her lips, James was standing, stick in hand, shouting at the top of his voice. He made a ferocious swipe at the animal with all the strength he could muster, sending it flying and yelping into the air. Two more dogs came at them from behind the low hedgerow. The young man stood between them and his wife, snarling back at them, threatening with the stick. Another two arrived, one with a bone in his mouth, but kept their distance.

  “Stand up, Mary. Make yourself bigger than them. Be aggressive, shout and snarl. It will frighten them off.”

  The adrenaline pumping through her spurred the young woman into action, and she outdid her husband in growling at the pack. The dogs, whimpering, turned tail and ran, leaving James and Mary coughing and laughing.

  "I hope I never find myself on the receiving end of your anger, those animals will still be running tomorrow, they got such a fright. I almost went with them," laughed James.

  Mary went very quiet. When she did speak it was in a hushed tone.

  "Tell me the truth, was that a human thigh bone in the dog's mouth?"

  "Yes, it was. But it's an old bone, maybe from a grave."

  Mary sat down and cried huge sobs that sent shudders through her body. James sat beside her, rubbing her back, trying to soothe her.

  "Calm down, love, take deep breaths, think of the baby. It's the shock that has you so upset."

  "No, it's not that at all. The thought struck me that my father could have died in a hedgerow with a pack of dogs fighting over his bones. Nobody has heard any news. How will I ever know what happened to him, James?"

  All of the grief she had stored in her heart seemed to be spreading convulsively through her thin, swollen body. He had never seen her this upset, not even when her mother died and her younger brother and sisters left to go to America.

  Nothing her husband could say would make any difference to how Mary felt. He knew that, so they sat there, on the side of the road, until the sobs got softer. James had one arm around his wife and the other was still holding the stick in case the dogs came back.

  After a long time, Mary sighed deeply, stood up and brushed down her dusty clothes.

  "Right, James, we should get a move on, before the storm sets in. I've done my grieving. You and this baby are what's important to me now."

  Mary held her hand out to her husband, who was still sitting on the ground.

  She helped him up and said, "By the way, next time you see a pack of dogs don't lie to me, pretending there's only two. I wouldn't have got such a fright if I had known what to expect,” and she slapped him lightly on the back of the head as they set out on the last leg of their journey.

  CHAPTER 3

  As the weeks went by and the days got brighter, James and Pat had plenty of opportunity to fish and hunt. Mary tried to help Annie in the small garden attached to the cottage, but she tired easily. The sea no longer frightened her, except whenever the men were out in the boats fishing. On those occasions she would stand by the small window looking out to sea, praying for their safety. Annie told her she would get used to it in time. The women collected cockles and seaweed. Each day James could see his wife getting stronger, the pale, grey tinge to her skin being replaced by a healthy glow.

  Mary loved to walk along the shore. The sound of the waves made a deep impression on her, whether it was the pounding crash of an angry sea or the gentle kiss of water as it lapped around bare feet on firm sand. Annie was constantly chastising her for paddling in cold water, saying it would give her a chill, or harm the baby. Mary would listen to the well-meant advice, nodding her head in agreement. However, each time she returned to the beach the pull of the sea was irresistible and more often than not, her feet would stay rooted to the sand waiting for the water to roll over them. Many a time James and Pat saw Mary splashing about, but never said a word to Annie.

  It was on a cold, sunny spring day, while the men were repairing nets and laying them over the rocks, that James saw his wife collapse into the water. He shouted to Pat and they both ran to help her up.

  "I got such a terrible pain, I couldn't stay upright," she said. "I think the baby is coming. Bring me back to Annie, quickly."

  Carrying her to the cottage James called his aunt's name repeatedly. Annie was tending the small vegetable patch behind the house and heard him before he was even in the gate. They lay Mary down on the bed by the fire just as another wave of pain hit her.

  "How many times has that happened, is it regular?" asked Annie, stoking up the fire.

  "I have been having a few small pains all morning but nothing like this. I thought it was the baby moving about." Mary gasped as another band tightened around her abdomen.

  "Pat, go fetch Kitty Carroll and be quick about it. James get more water on the boil." Annie was panicking inside but outwardly she appeared calm and composed.

  Mary cried out with each painful contraction and James held her hand while listening to his aunt's instructions. As he wiped the young woman's brow he assured her that Annie knew exactly what to do.

  "You must have delivered half the village with Kitty Carroll, isn't that so?" James' eyes were pleading with Annie to agree with him, even though it wasn't true.

  "Of course I did, sure it's the poor mother who does all the work anyway. We just help her along. Keep a firm hold of your husband's hand, Mary, squeeze as tight as you can. It took both of you to get you this way – I don't see why James shouldn't feel any discomfort," said Annie.

  She stood by the fire warming a soft blanket Mary had made for the birth of her child.

  Ten minutes later, which seemed more like an hour to everyone, a little head popped out into the world. Never was a husband more proud of his wife than James at that moment. There was a gust of wind as the door was quickly opened by the woman who really had delivered half of the village.

  "Alright, son, you've done more than should be expected of you. Outside with you now and look after your uncle, he's wearing a hole in the path with his pacing up and down," said Kitty.

  James kissed Mary and jumped up quickly, obeying Kitty's orders. On reaching the door he turned around for one last look and saw his daughter slip out of her mother's body. As he stepped outside, the baby let out a wail that could only have been produced by a fine pair of lungs.

  "Only a female could make a sound like that," said Pat shaking his nephew's hand.

  "How did you know? It is a girl, I saw her just before Kitty threw me out," said James, proudly.

  "I was only joking about the cry, but you have to agree, she's loud. She'll give us grief, I can tell, and we'll enjoy every minute of it," laughed Pat. "Come on, we're going to Paddy Mac's. We can wet the baby's head with a bit of his poitín. There’ll be no more drink if the blight strikes again this year, you can’t make poitín out of rotten skins."

  Having checked with Annie and Kitty that everything was well with Mary and the baby, James asked the women if he should stay or go with his uncle. Mary told him she was exhausted and wanted to sleep and sent h
im off to boast about the fine daughter they had just produced. The two men walked towards the village, carrying some fish to trade for a well-deserved drink.

  CHAPTER 4

  Paddy Mac's cabin was warm and welcoming, packed tight with local men who had heard the news of a baby being born. He was Kitty Carroll's neighbour and whenever he saw her running off in a hurry, he knew there would be a baby's head to wet and would send one of his children to keep him informed on the progress. A big cheer rose from the crowded room as soon as Pat and James entered.

  "How did ye all know so soon?" asked James looking around the sea of faces.

  "That was the quickest labour I ever heard tell of, my poor young fella nearly ran the legs off himself spreading the news around the village before you got here," said Paddy Mac.

  The door opened and more well-wishers poured into the crowded parlour.

  James was touched by their kindness. Pat wasn't surprised by it. He knew the glimmer of hope a new life could bring to his neighbours at a time when many around them were sick, or dying, or leaving. There was a lot of friendly back slapping and congratulations going on while the men settled down to various low toned discussions about recent events. James, being a husband and father felt part of a unique circle. He now had a family to take care of and times were hard. There was strength in numbers, a well-known fact among fishermen. A boat with a crew was better than one man on his own.

  "The poor unfortunates at the workhouse are being fed Indian meal, as there's no potatoes," someone said.

  "Last month, thirty six starving people from the town admitted themselves in just one day. Things are getting worse. One year of blight was bad enough, if we have another one we are all finished," said Paddy Mac.

  A man standing next to Pat remarked, "That's not a place I would want to bring my family to. Only last week a twelve year old girl was brought before the magistrate and sentenced to a fortnight in Dundalk goal for absconding in workhouse clothes. Leaving the place isn't a crime, but taking the clothes with you is. Sure the poor mite didn't have a stitch to call her own."

  Listening to what the men were saying, James silently swore he would never let that happen to his daughter. Between Mary and himself, with the help of his aunt and uncle, they would get through the hard times.

  "Enough of this gloom and doom," said Pat, "My young nephew here and his good wife have brought a fine healthy child into our lives, with a pair of lungs that would shatter glass. No doubt she will keep the whole village awake over the next few months. I might be a more regular visitor from now on, Paddy Mac."

  The whole place erupted with laughter. James was made drink another glass of the clear liquid, its tingling heat spreading through his body, right down to his toes.

  Later that night, Pat and his young companion walked in silent contentment back to the cottage, through the still night air. James hiccupped as they entered, drawing a look of scorn from Annie.

  "You two must be exhausted after all that celebrating. Go on up to bed, Pat, and don't make a sound, Mary and her little one are fast asleep. I'll be up as soon as I have finished here."

  While Annie was speaking to his uncle, James sat on the floor close to the bed where his young wife and new-born daughter lay. He couldn't take his eyes off the baby, she looked so peaceful and content.

  "Make the most of her quiet moments, there won't be too many of those for a while," Annie said as if reading his thoughts. "James, son, come over here and sit by me, there's something I want to say to you."

  The young man had to drag himself away from his daughter's side, shocked at the strong pull she already had on his heart.

  "What is it, Aunt Annie? Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry about the drink, I'm not used to it," he said.

  The old woman smiled and shook her head.

  "No, James, I'm not going to chastise you. I only want to give you a bit of advice. You can take it or leave it, I won't mind."

  Annie pointed to the bed in the corner of the room where Mary lay, the baby nestled in her arms.

  "You picked a fine woman there for a wife, I hope you realize that."

  James nodded his head as she continued speaking.

  "She will be a bit emotional over the next few weeks and that's only natural, so take everything she says with a pinch of salt. If she has a sharp tongue, ignore it. She's a grand girl with a good heart and will be back to her old self in no time. Well, I'm off to my own bed – Pat should have it nice and warm by now."

  Annie stood up and patted James on the back.

  "I'm glad you came to stay, it's brought a new lease of life to both of us. If you and Mary decide to join your family in England we would miss you terribly, but you have to do what's best for your child now."

  James stood and hugged his aunt.

  "The thought of going there never entered my head. No matter how bad things get here, this is where I want my family to be reared. I know Mary feels the same way. So we will have no more talk of that. You go on up, Pat will be missing you. I can look after the fire."

  Annie smiled at her nephew's words and took one last look at the sleeping baby before climbing the stairs.

  After tending the fire, James lay on the other bed in the parlour, looking over at Mary, sleeping peacefully. It was hard to imagine she was the same young woman he had seen wreathing in agony earlier that evening. Sleep did not come to him easily that night. He tossed and turned, drifting in and out of a strange dream about a young girl in prison and Mary at the barred window. She had pushed her arms through the gaps, holding onto the child, both of them sobbing their hearts out. James woke up, his body damp with sweat, and looked over at his young family.

  "I'm sorry, love, did the baby wake you with her crying?" Mary whispered as she stroked her daughter's head of dark brown hair. "She is so hungry, this is the third time she has suckled since she was born."

  James asked if he could lie in beside them. Mary made room for him and he held them both in his arms.

  "She is so beautiful, just like her mother,” he said, then added mischievously, “She sounds like you, too.”

  Slapping him on the leg Mary said, "And that's what she'll get if she is as saucy as you."

  She placed the sleeping baby in his arms.

  "Are we still agreed on calling her Catherine, after my mother?" asked Mary.

  James felt a warm glow as he held his daughter for the first time; a feeling that would make him agree to anything asked of him.

  "Of course," said James, “That's the tradition isn't it? The first boy after the man's father and the first girl after the woman's mother. It's nice that one of my sisters is also called Catherine, in fact, there's lots of Catherine McGrothers in our family. It's a good solid name, one she will be proud to bear when she's older."

  CHAPTER 5

  James could see four boats spread out in the bay, their vessel being last to sail. On board with him was his uncle Pat, along with the owner of the boat and his son. The fishermen called out greetings to each other as they passed. It was midnight. A pale ribbon of moonlight lay over the quiet sea and the air was very still.

  "A calm before the storm I would say Tom," remarked Pat. "We will have to head back to shore at the first sign of a breeze."

  Tom Matthews looked at his fifteen year old son, Joseph, the only one left of five. Three of his boys had gone to America six months before and one had died of the fever. His wife and two young daughters depended on them catching enough fish tonight to eat for the next week – if they were lucky. The weather being so bad the previous three days, nobody had risked bringing a boat out to sea. As soon as the wind calmed, the fishermen set out, thankful for the opportunity to replenish their depleted food supply. Under normal circumstances none of them would have chanced going out with a storm expected, but times were hard and food scarce.

  Mary's eyes were fixed on the boat carrying James away from the shore. In the pale moonlight, she could just make out the shape of her husband, rowing along with one of the
other crew. Having gone to bed early, Annie was fast asleep upstairs, blissfully unaware of the fact that both their men were at sea. Mary knew the older woman really did worry, even if she pretended not to. "At least one of us will get some sleep," she thought.

  As the night wore on all of the boats landed some fish. Not a huge amount, but enough for their families. A wind began to blow, announcing the impending storm. Pulling up the nets with whatever precious catch was in them, the fishermen hastily made ready to sail back to the safety of the shore. They were a mile out, not wanting to risk going any further on that particular night. The sudden swell of the sea tossing the boats made rowing difficult. James and Tom, being the strongest, took the oars. Pat and Joseph, the oldest and youngest on board, bailed out the water deposited by every wave breaking over them.

  "We need to climb on the back of the biggest wave that comes along, James," Tom shouted above the howling wind, "It will carry us to shore if we're lucky."

  The young man listened to every instruction that was given him by the older, more experienced sailor. James had been in rough seas before, even as a child, and knew the importance of keeping a level head.

  The shrill whistling of the wind through the door broke into Mary's sleep. Her baby was lying at her side, warm and content. Slowly she eased herself off the bed so as not to disturb the sleeping child and took up her watch at the small window. It framed a scene the young woman would remember for the rest of her life. Angry, black clouds raced across a charcoal grey sky. The light from the full moon revealing a boiling sea that, from time to time, threw up into the air small dark shapes. Mary knew those were the boats that had gone out earlier, one of them carrying her husband.

  James felt a numbness in his arms, and looked to see if he was holding the oars. He couldn't tell if they were still in his hands, the cold having frozen his fingers around the wood. Tom was shouting words at him, some of which the wind stole away. Others he managed to hear and follow. Pat went very still and was looking past James at something behind him. It seemed like the boat stopped moving for a second, and then they were lifted up as if a giant hand was balancing them on its palm.