‘Eily, Eily, just wait ‘till you see what I’ve got. Come on quickly,’ urged Peggy.
Eily placed the water cans in a steady spot, waiting to see what all the fuss was about. Peggy ran behind the tree and emerged with a large rabbit hanging from her hands. Glassy-eyed, it stared at Eily and Michael. It looked like it had been dead for a day or more.
‘Where did you get it, pet?’ asked Eily gently. ‘You didn’t catch it yourself?’
‘No, Eily, I found it, just lying near a bunch of lovely blue flowers. Isn’t it grand?’ Peggy said proudly.
Eily didn’t know what to say. God knows they could do with a bit of meat, but she couldn’t help but remember Mary Kate’s warning about eating only fresh meat and not touching anything they found already dead.
‘Peggy, pet, don’t you remember what old Mary Kate told us?’
Peggy’s face crumpled in disappointment. However, she accepted the sense of Eily’s words and ran back into a clump of trees and flung the rabbit away. Eily consoled her by saying that maybe there were a few rabbits around where she had found that one and they might catch one yet. Also, she told her to fetch the pot and she would show her where some baby wild strawberries grew.
The day was spent gathering anything that was vaguely edible and more fuel. Michael wanted to try to walk, but Eily insisted he give the leg another day’s rest. They sucked the wild strawberries until their mouths were stained red. Eily also found an untended plot of land with a few stragglers of young carrots and turnips. She filled her pockets, delighted with herself and the thought of the nourishing soup she could now make with just the addition of a sliced spud.
That afternoon the sun was so warm that Peggy and Eily ran off to the river to cool down and waded in as far as their waists, splashing each other and washing the grime off their bare arms and their necks and faces. Then they lay on the river bank in their shifts until the sun had dried them off. That night there was a large helping of soup for everyone and the last of the yellow meal pan-cooked.
The following day, Michael was up before them and standing in front of them, proudly showing that his leg was healed. His walking was a bit stiff, but he was anxious to explore his surroundings. They knew they should move on, but were loath to leave the comforts of the fire. They built it up a bit before showing Michael around.
Peggy brought them to where she had found the rabbit. They huddled down in the bracken and after a very long wait were rewarded with the sight of a family of young rabbits nibbling and playing a few feet away. The children kept perfectly still. Michael had a large stone gripped between his fingers. He had spotted a little one that had strayed too far from the rest, busy nibbling at some juicy grass. Within an instant he had taken aim. At first it seemed that the rabbit was just stunned. All the others had scampered off and disappeared. Then Michael realised how accurate he had been as the rabbit took its last breath. He ran over and lifted it up. It was very small. There wouldn’t be much eating in it, but at least it was meat.
Peggy came over to Michael and belted him on the chest. She was clearly upset at seeing the young animal die. Eily made sure to decoy her away when Michael was skinning and cleaning it. However, once Eily had boiled the rabbit with a few carrots and a bit of wild onion, there were no objections from Peggy to such filling fare. That night their stomachs groaned from trying to digest such good nourishing food.
It was still dark when they felt the first specks of rain touch their faces. At about seven o’clock that morning the rain came, heavy and steady. Their fire had gone out, the rain-water washing through the ashes and running in grey rivulets through the grass. They gathered up their belongings. The two girls pulled their shawls up over their heads. There was no point in staying any longer. They had to be on their way again.
CHAPTER 7
The Soup Kitchen
FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS it rained on and off. All their clothes were damp. Their bones ached. At night they lay on the wet ground trying to find some shelter as they wrapped up in their damp blankets. They had made their way to the road again, as the grass was too wet for walking.
A few times other people passed them by. Most just nodded. They looked miserable – ragged and undernourished and dirty. The children were unaware that they themselves looked just as bad. As luck had it, a tall thin boy of about fifteen fell into step beside them.
‘Joseph T. Lucy,’ he announced, introducing himself with a bow. His clothes were filthy and Eily couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose as he also smelled of sweat and grime. Despite these failings, he was a good companion, and after about a half an hour Eily relaxed enough to loosen her hold on the near-empty food bag.
Joseph informed them that they were only about an hour from the small village of Kineen. He had heard that some strange religious folk had set up a soup kitchen for the poor of the area there.
‘C’mon,’ he urged them, ‘we might all get a dacent meal and a bit of a rest.’
Joseph was right, it would be good to have a meal, and perhaps they might meet someone they knew and who might have word of Mother and Father. Kineen it was, then.
Eily could not believe the crowds when they reached the village. Hundreds of ragged starving people thronged the small main street. They queued, desperate for food. Some were so weak they could not stand, so they sat on the ground, dejected but determined to keep their place. The children fell into line at the very back. Eily’s eyes roved over the crowd, searching to see if she could pick out any familiar face.
The faces – the faces – she would never forget them. They all had the same look. The cheeks were sunken, the eyes wide and staring with deep circles underneath, the lips narrow and tight, and in some the skin had a yellow tinge. Hunger and sickness had changed these people. Now they were like ghosts. Old women clawed and tried to push their way to get further up the line. Mothers stood staring ahead as scrawny toddlers pulled and whined against their filthy skirts. This must be hell, thought Eily, for once really terrified.
Suddenly in the distance three women with aprons and caps emerged from the doors of a ramshackle shed, lifting a large heavy cauldron. Immediately the crowd surged forward. Eily just managed to grab hold of Peggy, whose feet were actually lifted off the ground in the panic. Peggy fastened her arms around Eily’s waist and rested her head against her chest. She was exhausted and scared.
The women had begun to ladle out the soup. There were tin mugs for those who did not have anything of their own. Twice the pot was refilled before the children actually moved forward.
Now Eily had a clearer view. She could make out figures inside the shed busily chopping carrots and turnips and onions and throwing them into large wooden vats, along with scoops of barley and buckets of water. A man then came along with a bucket of roughly chopped pieces of meat and offal and threw them in too.
The afternoon passed and they still had not reached the top. All the children were worried about was that the soup would run out before they had their turn. Finally they got there. An exhausted woman begged one of the servers for two extra mugs for her two children, who were about half a mile back along the road. They were too weak to walk any further. She was refused, but when she took a long gulp of the hot soup from her own mug, the server quickly replaced it with a bit of a top-up. The woman carefully made her way back through the crowds carrying the precious liquid. Eily and Michael and Peggy and Joseph all took a big swallow of the soup too when their turn came, but no top-up was offered. Then they found a free bit of space to sit and enjoy the meal. The soup was greasy and globs of fat floated on its surface, but it would keep them going.
That night they slept in Kineen, as it was rumoured that the soup kitchen would re-open at midday again the next day. During the night an old man shook them and told them to be on their way, as the heathens would try to convert them in the morning and if they took another mug of soup they may as well take the Queen’s shilling. The children were puzzled, but simply ignored him.
The following morning they positioned
themselves mid-way in the starving group. Gradually they became aware of a kindly-looking gentleman and two women moving among the ragged crowd. At times the younger woman would emerge from the crowd with a young boy or girl in tow, or a toddler in her arms, and make her way to a large house at the end of the village. She would knock at a green door, then disappear inside and re-emerge on her own a few minutes later.
Eily wondered what they were doing. Were they taking the children to some kind of orphanage or workhouse? They were getting nearer and nearer. The older woman had begun to chat to Peggy. She was asking her was she on her own. Peggy turned and pointed out Eily and Michael, then came the next question: ‘But where are your parents?’
Eily reached out and pulled at Peggy who was staring blankly at the lady, wondering what she was meant to say. Frantically Eily’s eyes scanned the crowd. In the far distance she spotted a red-haired woman sitting on a doorstep, her husband standing beside her.
‘There they are, Miss,’ replied Eily, quickly pointing out the pair. The old lady looked doubtful. Quickly Eily waved at the red-haired woman. Their eyes met and the woman nodded back at Eily, wondering in her own mind who that lassie with the long fair hair was. The old lady, satisfied, moved on.
Once they had received their portion of the thick mutton stew, they made their way back to the edge of Kineen. The three children felt they wanted to get back on their way, but Joseph pleaded with them to stay, reluctant to lose his new-found friends. They explained to him about the aunts and how they hoped Mother and Father would turn up there. He wanted to stay in Kineen for another few days and then make his way to one of the harbour ports and try to get passage on one of the ships sailing for Liverpool.
It was with heavy hearts that they took leave of one another. Michael had to swallow a lump in his throat as he said yet another goodbye.
CHAPTER 8
Beside the Lake
THE CHILDREN KEPT WALKING ON. Peggy had two huge blisters on her foot. Every few hours Eily smeared the foot with Mary Kate’s ointment. For the most part, the skin on the soles of their feet was like blackened leather. Eily’s hands were hard and calloused, the skin scarred with the constant weight of all she had to carry. She had developed a touch of ‘the flux’, and suspected the slightly rancid mutton stew from Kineen. She chewed the herbal remedy of Mary Kate’s, hoping it would ease her nausea and the cramps in her stomach.
They had stopped for a rest when they became aware of a smell – more like a stench. Even worse than the time the potatoes had rotted.
‘Eily, what could it be?’ questioned Michael. ‘Do you think everything around us is going to rot and die?’
Peggy and Eily made for a clump of bushes to relieve themselves. Suddenly the stench, with an even fouler undertone, washed over them. Eily saw it and turned, hoping that Peggy hadn’t noticed, but Peggy’s face was white with fear.
It was a man – well, what was left of him. The skin was rotted and all different colours. He was thin, so thin that his bones already showed. Eily could feel pinpricks of sweat across her brow and her stomach turning. Peggy had screwed up her eyes and was pulling at her dress. Almost in unison they got sick in the bushes. Once their stomachs were empty and the heaving had stopped, they galloped back to Michael. One look at their faces and he knew something terrible had happened.
‘What is it, girls? What is it?’ he kept on.
In between tears and sobbing, they managed to tell him.
‘That poor soul,’ cried Eily. ‘To die all alone in the middle of nowhere, starved and with no family or friends.’
‘We must say a prayer for him,’ said Michael in a low voice. He broke two twigs and fashioned them into a cross, tying them with some long pieces of grass.
They all walked back towards the bushes.
‘I don’t want to get sick again,’ wailed Peggy, keeping a few steps back behind the others. They stopped short a few yards away from the body. Michael pushed the simple cross into the ground.
‘What will we say?’ asked Michael.
‘An “Our Father”,’ replied Eily. When it was said, Eily asked God to remember this poor lost man.
As quickly as they could they gathered up their stuff, wanting to get away from that dreadful place, so much so that they did not stop walking until they noticed a towering green forest that stretched for miles. It reminded them of the forest at home near Duneen, and they suddenly realised that it was almost two weeks since they had left home. Seeking comfort, the children slipped off the road and into an almost familiar world. The huge trees reached right up to touch the sky, sounds were muffled and they seemed to be walking on a dull carpet of pine needles and moss. Very little sunlight filtered through, but there in the calm and peace, with only the odd coo of a wood-pigeon, the world seemed a better place.
They kept a good eye on the road in the distance, moving parallel to it. Secure in the forest, they relaxed. The odd small startled animal ran across their path and in the far distance the muffled sound of a fast-running mountain stream could be heard. Time had stopped still in this place. They remembered past times playing hide-and-seek in the woods near home – now they did not have the energy even to run.
After about two hours’ walking they all sat down. Peggy and Michael were exhausted. Peggy began to cry, her breath coming in racking sobs. She could not stop. Eily pulled her on to her lap. She could feel how light Peggy was – no sign of the plump young arms and legs. Her skin seemed barely to cover her bones and her ribcage stuck out. Eily laid her head against her little sister’s head, and the tears slid soundlessly down her face. A total sense of hopelessness washed over her. Oh how she longed for Mother to come and take care of them all, or Father to tell them what to do.
Michael looked at them. He could feel Eily’s sorrow and grief.
‘We’re going to die like the rest of them, aren’t we?’ he whispered. He was scared. He had always had so many plans for when he was older. He knelt down beside Eily and they hugged each other. They cried, each voicing their own fears.
‘I wanted to play on a hurling team like the big fellows, and some day learn to ride a horse and maybe even have a place of my own,’ said Michael.
‘I wanted to have a fine wool dress with a lace collar and combs in my hair. Maybe then when I was older I would fall in love and get married like Mother and have babies of my own,’ sobbed Eily.
They looked at Peggy. She had calmed down a bit. ‘Just a doll of my own and maybe to go to school and best of all to be like Eily,’ she said in a shaky little voice.
Eily held her close, overwhelmed with the love she felt for her brother and sister. She felt her heart would burst with the sadness of it all.
Suddenly Peggy laughed. ‘Look at Michael. His face is all blotchy and his eyes are so red.’
Then Michael looked at the girls. Their hair was wild, and they both had runny noses and raw-looking eyes. He half-hiccupped and laughed. Eily couldn’t help smiling at the silliness of it all, and within a few seconds they were laughing out loud and blowing their noses.
‘What eejits we are,’ joked Eily. ‘We’re still alive. We’re tired and hungry and on our own, but we have each other and we can still walk and forage. We’ll get to Nano and Lena’s even if it takes us a month.’
The bout of crying had released a lot of the tensions and they all felt in some way refreshed and renewed in their purpose.
The forest trail began to climb slightly and they planned to follow it until dusk and spend the night there, knowing that the next morning they would have to get back down to the road.
When they did, the road seemed less crowded. Two funerals passed them, and two middle-aged women fell into step with Eily. One carried a wasted-looking baby wrapped inside her shawl. They felt it was their duty to inform Eily of all the latest gossip roundabouts.
‘Lovey, did you hear tell of the little village of Dunbarra? The poor old priest went calling on four of the cottages and found all in them dead of the famine fever and
huge rats swarming the place. They had to open a burial pit a mile outside the village to throw all the bodies of those that died into it.’ The women continued, with each story worse than the one before. Eily felt faint and had to sit down on a hillock of grass. Michael and Peggy came over to see what was wrong. The women, terrified of the fever, quickened their pace and were soon gone. Eily refused to tell the others what had upset her so.
They looked across the fields and in the distance they could see a group of people working. Two men further up the road had crossed the stone wall and were making for that field too. The children decided to follow. As they came nearer to the field, they could clearly see the ragged group kneeling on the ground lifting young turnips. They hurried over. An old man assured them that the farmer, an old bachelor, had died that very morning of the fever and that there was no harm in the poor trying to save themselves. The children split up and began to sink their hands into the damp mud and lift out the small pale turnips and place them in their pockets. Then Eily put them one after another in the food bag. Some poor creatures were eating them as soon as they lifted them, barely knocking the earth off. Eily tried to avert her eyes. Within about half an hour the field had been picked clean, as if it was harvest time. The group then disbanded and all went their separate ways.
At least the food bag was now fairly full, even if it was with food usually reserved for animals. The children kept going overland, climbing over the stone walls. The fields were carpeted with wild flowers and clover, the hum of honey bees droned in the still air. The sun blazed down, drying out the damp earth. They walked for about another two miles and suddenly became aware of the sparkle of the sun reflecting on water. It was a lake, and it stretched as far as the eye could see. High, thin water reeds formed a circle around it and at times there were clear patches of sand and stony gravel over which the clear water lapped.
Under the Hawthorn Tree: Children of the Famine Page 5
