The Blue Horse

by Marita Conlon-McKenna

  The older woman seemed to become more businesslike. ‘There will be marriage and family, all you have ever wanted, nothing will come that easy, but you will find and marry the man you love.’

  Katie let out a sigh of relief.

  Davey had begun to wail outside. She stood up to go to him, but the woman still held her hand. ‘Katie, follow your instincts, trust to them and they will see you right.’

  She nodded. Her instincts. She didn’t rightly understand what Nan meant and right now she wasn’t even sure she was going to have good fortune.

  ‘Remember, Katie, follow your own instincts always.’ Nan stood and started to tidy up her caravan.

  A shaft of sunlight flooded in the door. Davey lay half-awake, one arm flung across his face to protect it from the bright sun. This arm was already burned red.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Maguire, thanks for everything.’

  Katie had a feeling that the old woman hadn’t told her half of what she had seen in her hand.

  Chapter 5

  STICKS AND STONES

  ‘It’s not fair. Those boys started it.’

  ‘If I can’t trust you to bring the kids to the shop and get them home safely, there’ll be no more shops,’ Mam pronounced firmly.

  ‘But I didn’t do anything,’ pleaded Katie.

  ‘The bully boys did it, Mam, they called us knackers and tinkers and followed us,’ Hannah added.

  ‘I’m not talking to you, Hannah, this is between me and Katie.’

  ‘But Katie did nothing,’ her little sister kept on.

  ‘Listen, I don’t care what those boys said, you should know well now: Sticks and stones …’

  Katie lifted her eyes to heaven: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. It was one of their mother’s, and for that matter their father’s, favourite sayings. No matter what people called you or shouted at you or how they insulted you, just ignore it.

  ‘I didn’t cause trouble, Mam, I swear I didn’t,’ Katie promised. ‘They followed us. One of the boys was going to cut off Bridey’s hair, he was hurting her …’

  ‘No trouble. Is that too much to ask of a big girl like yourself, not to cause or bring us trouble?’ Mam kept on. ‘No trouble is it, letting your little sister kick a big boy?’

  ‘I did it myself, I just couldn’t stand it another second,’ shouted Hannah.

  ‘But the worst of it, to use an innocent baby, a little child, my own little man, as a battle weapon! Your father will kill you if he hears of it.’

  ‘But he didn’t get hurt, Mam, he wasn’t crying or anything,’ answered Katie.

  ‘Your little sister all bruised and cut and upset and the baby terrified out of his wits, what kind of a girl are you?’

  Katie was silent.

  A barrage of words built up in her brain. She knew if she said one word they would all be forced out like a flood. Why should they keep out of trouble, never reply, walk away? She stayed silent.

  ‘And then the worst of it – getting your fortune told while the baby was being roasted alive in the sun. Nearly a quarter of a bottle of calamine lotion I’ve had to rub on him.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mam.’

  ‘Hmm!’

  ‘It wasn’t Mrs Maguire’s fault. She helped us because you weren’t here. Hannah needed calming down …’

  ‘She was real nice to me too, Mam,’ added Hannah.

  ‘Now I suppose I’ll have to go down and thank her for her help. I will say this and listen to me the both of you, and you, boys, too –’ the twins and Tom were watching a black-and-white portable television up at the front end of the trailer, ‘– keep out of trouble. There will be enough bad things that will find their way to your door, so walk away from trouble, take another road, go the long way, don’t reply, don’t answer back. Are ye all listening?’

  Katie nodded.

  ‘Yes, Mam,’ Hannah smiled nervously.

  The boys grunted some kind of answer, despite being engrossed in the TV programme. Mam seemed satisfied.

  ‘Now let that be an end to it and none of you are to let me down.’ She got the brush and began to brush Hannah’s hair.

  * * *

  At the end of the week Francis and his grandmother got ready to leave. Katie couldn’t believe it. Her new friend! He came to say goodbye.

  ‘Do you really have to go?’ she asked.

  He nodded. He was rubbing two or three leaves between his fingers.

  ‘Is it because of the goats?’ she said, thinking it was funny how a person could suddenly go off goats, take a strong dislike to them in fact.

  He shrugged. ‘They need fresh grass, some wild herbs.’ He paused. ‘Look, Katie, you know what Gran’s like. She gets notions about things – about places – she’s just a superstitious old woman. The goats are part of it but she has a real feeling we must leave this place.’

  Francis stood so close to her, his arm stretched out above her as he pulled more leaves from the ivy trailing over the wall behind them. Her head came just about to his chin. A dart of loneliness pricked her.

  ‘We’re going to Galway – it’s nice there. Gran always likes it. In about two weeks there’ll be a summer fair, plenty of people, horses, games and stalls, buying and selling!

  ‘Maybe you’ll all get up to Galway.’ He tried to sound cheerful.

  ‘Maybe.’ She fixed her eyes on one of the dogs stretched out on the grass in the distance. She could see the alsatian’s stomach going up and down, his tongue out; she could almost hear his panting.

  ‘Are you listening to me, Katie?’

  His hand now rested on her shoulder.

  ‘Our paths will cross again, you can depend on it.’ She looked into his eyes and knew he was not just saying it, they were not empty words.

  ‘I hope so,’ she whispered.

  ‘I promise,’ he said, before turning and running off back down the field.

  At midday a car and a small lorry appeared, and the goats were loaded in. Francis was sitting in the front seat with the driver. Nan got into the car which would tow the small caravan. In a small procession they left Kilcross. To Katie the place seemed strangely empty.

  Chapter 6

  JUMP!

  ‘I’m going to have a game of cards with Brigid,’ announced Mam.

  Katie nodded. She was glad to see Mam going out, even if it was just next door for an hour or so. The men kept disappearing off every night and it was lonely for her.

  ‘Be good,’ Mam called.

  Katie was busy sorting out a pile of socks that didn’t match. Tom lay on his bunk with a magazine of pictures of motorbikes. He loved looking at them and having them all around him while he slept. With bits of sellotape he stuck up pictures of fellas and girls on all kinds of big bikes. He could name all the bikes, even though he wasn’t too hot at reading and most of the names were foreign-sounding and meant nothing to the others.

  She could hear him tearing a page or two out.

  ‘Katie, pass me in the sellotape, will you?’

  ‘Get it yourself, I’m busy,’ she retorted.

  ‘Ah go on, have a look for it.’

  She pulled out one or two drawers under the food cupboard. ‘It’s not here,’ she called.

  ‘It must be,’ he shouted.

  ‘I see it – it’s all gone.’ She flung the small, empty cardboard circle at him. ‘The twins must have been at it.’

  She could hear him moving around and the creak of his bunk as he swung himself down.

  ‘I’m going over to Pat’s trailer. I won’t be long.’

  The caravan was quiet, the others chatting in low tones, their eyes locked on the black-and-white images from the TV.

  Suddenly the light seemed to flicker. Katie went to stand up. Maybe the bottle of gas was nearly empty, but with a burst of brightness it settled back again. She ignored it.

  Then a strange crackling sound came from the kitchen. She slid the door open more. Where was the noise coming from? The kitchen seemed b
right, too bright. The mantle had fallen from the gas light, and an inch of fire ran from one flimsy curtain to the other. The lower half of the window was blackened, and the wood surround was being licked by a tongue of vivid orange flames. She grabbed the kettle of water off the cooker and flung it at the window. Black smoke hissed at her, but like a creature scuttling away from an attacker, a burst of fire ran in a line along the panelling and took flight across the ceiling.

  ‘Move! Out! Get out!’ she began to shout.

  The others turned blankly towards her.

  ‘What’s the smell?’ sniffed Paddy.

  ‘It’s a fire, get up quick. Out, get out of here! Bloody well MOVE,’ she screamed, grabbing Hannah who was half asleep and pulling her to her feet.

  The boys were trying to lift the small television set.

  ‘Bloody leave it, we’ve got to move.’

  She pushed back through the open doorway into the kitchen. The whole wall was now alight, the lino was starting to curl and melt under them, a heavy black smell filled the kitchen. Back in the other part of the trailer, she grabbed a rug off the couch, lifted the sleeping Davey from the little cot and covered him with it.

  She ran back towards the kitchen again. The whole floor was smothered in flames. The cupboards were alight. There was no way they could reach the caravan door. Sparks had run into the boys’ room. In a few seconds the twins’ mattress would be on fire. The pictures of motor bikes further up the wall had started to curl with the heat.

  ‘We’re stuck, Katie. We’ll all be killed!’ Brian was already beginning to cough and splutter. He’d always had a weak chest since he was a baby.

  Time and time again Katie had heard that it was the smoke, the black greasy fumes of smoke from cushions and foam that killed people. They had only a minute or two to get out – already her eyes were beginning to weep. Davey in panic was trying to kick out of the rug; she wrapped it even tighter around him. At the other side of the living room the twins were twisting the screws on each side of the window. The curtains were starting to singe, the whole roof was beginning to crack and Katie could almost believe the floor supports were starting to sag.

  ‘Help, help! Save us, help!’

  The twins and Hannah were shouting and coughing, the noise of the TV drowning them out.

  The boys tried to push the window. It was really stiff and would only open a fraction. Dad was meant to have oiled it and freed it up, but hadn’t got around to it. Hannah was trying to squeeze through it, but was bent double, stuck.

  ‘I’ll be roasted alive. Mam! Mammy!’ she screamed.

  ‘We’ve got to break a window.’ Katie’s eyes scanned the room. It was hot, the fire was circling towards them. ‘God help me.’

  Then in the corner she spotted the iron golf stick. The twins had found it near a golf club where they searched for balls in the long grass. Mam had half-hidden it away from them in case they could do damage.

  Hannah was back standing behind her, whimpering like a little puppy. The twins’ faces looked scared. Brian was finding it really hard to breathe. Paddy was forcing him to stand and not sit down.

  ‘Hannah, hold Davey. Don’t drop him,’ Katie ordered.

  She raised the golf stick and began to beat at the glass. A line ran through it but it didn’t crack. It took four goes before the glass shattered and she was able to push it out, but sharp pieces still stuck up. She dragged a chair over.

  ‘Give me Davey.’

  The child was livid with temper. It was a wonder the whole campsite hadn’t heard the racket. The rug was off him and his kicks pounded against Katie’s ribs.

  Katie spread the doubled-over rug on top of the jagged window ledge.

  ‘Get up, Hannah. Stand up on the chair.’

  Hannah was up, quick as lightning. Her thin body clambering up over the window.

  ‘The glass’ll stick into me.’

  ‘You’ll be roasted otherwise. Stop messing, it’s only a tiny jump,’ Katie ordered her.

  Hannah dithered, it wasn’t much of a jump, but it suddenly seemed such a long way to the ground.

  ‘Jump. Good girl, jump,’ Katie pleaded.

  Hannah wavered. The twins began to scream at her which seemed to break the spell. She jumped, and fell on her knees in the dirt, grazing them and her hands.

  ‘Reach up, Hannah. Come on, look up at me.’

  Hannah stood up. She was in shock.

  ‘I’ll pass down Davey to you,’ Katie stated firmly.

  ‘I won’t be able to catch him, he’ll fall. He’ll break his back.’

  ‘Shut up!’

  ‘No! No! I can’t.’

  Already Katie was leaning over the uneven edge of the rug covering. Davey was bawling. His face was as red as a turkey cock and his curls were plastered to his head from the tears and sweat. Katie held him by his armpits. The chubby legs and feet flayed in the air. Hannah’s skinny arms reached up to him. She was able to touch his ankles and halfway up his lower leg. He kicked and thrashed and squealed like a pig going to be slaughtered.

  ‘I can’t get him.’

  ‘He’s coming,’ insisted Katie, grim-faced, hoping she was doing the right thing. Leaning over as far as she could she lowered Davey. She was conscious of a scraping, jagged feeling against her stomach, but she reached far forward. Hannah buckled under Davey’s weight but managed to break his fall by landing on her bottom and back.

  Davey was safe.

  ‘Mam, help us, there’s a fire!’ Hannah screamed. Paddy had climbed over the windowsill and jumped down with ease, his face creased with worry and strain as he reached his arms towards his twin brother and helped pull him to safety.

  From behind her Katie was conscious of a roar. She looked back. The three sides of the caravan were ablaze. Rivulets of fire ran over her head. Her heart slowed. She felt as if she had stopped breathing. The temptation was to stay rigid and still, to breathe in this strange heavy smell, to fill her lungs with it – so sticky and sweet – to close her eyes and let it cover her nose and mouth, to float away.

  Her eyes felt so heavy … maybe she should just shut them, it would be so easy.

  ‘Kaaatie! My Kaaatie!’

  A voice shrill and sharp and urgent pushed its way like a nail into her brain.

  Mam was outside. She was standing shouting at her. Ah Mam, don’t be cross with me!

  ‘Kaa-tie! My own Katie. Jump out!’

  Tom was outside too. He had his arms around Mam’s waist, like he was wrestling her and holding her back. As if in slow motion Katie could see Hannah, trying to keep hold of Davey. What was wrong with the twins? They were curled up in each other’s arms, hugging each other. It was getting very hot and oh so dark.

  She could see Mam’s eyes. They were huge, like two pools of water.

  ‘KATIE!’

  It was so loud and high, piercing her above the roar of the flames and the crackling of the wood all around her.

  Mam wanted her. She jumped.

  Chapter 7

  DESTROYED

  ‘Put your head down between your knees. Stay sitting, you’re right winded.’ Mam was fussing all about her.

  She just couldn’t stop herself shaking; it went through her whole body. Even her teeth were chattering. Someone put a blanket around her.

  A heavy fog of thick black smoke engulfed their trailer, and a section of roof fell with a sickening crash.

  Everyone ran back and forth with buckets and basins of water and flung them at the giant firedragon, but it only served to make the monster hiss and steam even more.

  Auntie Brigid hurled a huge saucepan of stew towards the red centre of the flames; immediately the meat was singed and barbecued to lumps of charcoal, sizzling and disappearing in seconds. All the young cousins watched as their next day’s dinner went up in smoke, trying to hide the selfish worry of what they would eat now.

  Mam’s face was like a ghost. Davey clung to her, terrified. She swayed on her feet.

  ‘Move back. Get tho
se kids back.’ Old Man Casey was out, taking charge. He had only a pair of trousers on him.

  ‘Move back, Missus. The whole roof will go in a minute.’

  The heat was so intense that all the children in the field had reddened cheeks. Huge flames reached out like octopus tentacles to grab something else to burn. Like an arm brandishing a sword, a flash of flame suddenly streaked across the pole outside the door. The wooden step was on fire.

  The blue horse stood out above the flames. But the fire soon began to grasp it and in a few seconds the paint blistered and burst. Horrified, Katie watched. The wooden shape seemed to swell – she could swear it was moving, bucking and kicking, trying to escape the flame. It was engulfed like a mini fireball.

  She could almost hear its whinny as it burned.

  With a whoosh there was another burst of fire. The whole roof had fallen in. There was no saving it now. Everyone just stopped. They stood still, hands hanging by their sides, mouths open.

  Hannah stood beside Katie, her grimy hand on Katie’s shoulder.

  ‘My dollies … my new black shoes … my lovely pink cardigan – they’re all still inside,’ she wailed.

  Katie turned round to face her. ‘They’re gone, Hannah, but we’re safe. We all got out and that’s all that matters. Things don’t matter.’ She said it as much for herself as for her little sister. The thought of the blue horse now gone was tearing her apart.

  The twins were standing huddled together stroking Duffy. The young dog was doing her best to jump from the safety of their arms and join the crowd of other mongrels that roamed the campsite, all yapping and barking their heads off.

  ‘Where’s the fire brigade?’

  One of the Caseys had run up to the houses to telephone. Two or three cars slowed up at the roadside as they spotted the flames and smoke, but there was no sign of the fire engine.

  * * *

  Sirens blaring and blue light flashing, the fire brigade appeared at last in the distance along the road. It turned off sharply and trundled across the dirt track towards them.