The Little Orphan Girl

by Sandy Taylor

  I looked at Colm with his black hair and lovely face and I looked at his strong brown arms as he held the reins. I knew that he was still a boy but he seemed so grown-up, there were times when he seemed more like a man.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind ending up like you, Colm,’ I said.

  Colm laughed. ‘You’re a funny little thing,’ he said.

  We trotted happily along beside the sea and on past the lighthouse. Blue started to slow down as we started up the hill.

  ‘Come on, Blue,’ said Colm. ‘You can do it, boy.’

  When we got to the top, Colm jumped down from the cart and pushed open a pair of big iron gates. It reminded me of the workhouse and I felt a bit sad and I wondered what Nora was doing and whether that spawn of the Devil Biddy Duggan was still pinching her little arm.

  ‘You’ve gone very quiet,’ said Colm.

  ‘I was thinking of my friend Nora, back in the workhouse, and how much I missed her.’

  ‘Maybe you could visit her one day.’

  ‘I don’t think so. The mammy said it would be over her dead body before I ever went back there and I don’t want the mammy to die.’

  ‘Leave it with me, Cissy, and I’ll have a bit of a think,’ he said, very seriously.

  I felt cheerful again because Colm was having a bit of a think and I might see Nora again one day and I might be able to kick Biddy Duggan hard in the shins and break her two legs then she might stop pinching Nora.

  Blue trotted up a long drive between tall trees that swayed in the breeze and there in front of us was a house the like of which I’d never seen before. It had rows and rows of windows twinkling away in the early morning sunshine. It took my breath away.

  ‘Welcome to Bretton Hall, Cissy.’

  ‘How many people live here?’ I asked.

  ‘Just the Honourables.’

  ‘Who are the Honourables?’

  ‘Mr and Mrs Bretton. They live in this grand big house at the top of the hill and they look down their noses at the rest of us.’

  ‘What’s an Honourable, Colm?’

  ‘I don’t have a clue but I’d say you have to be mighty rich to be one.’

  ‘But they still need milk?’

  ‘Oh yes, and I’m the only one left that will deliver to them.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘For all their wealth they have very bad memories when it comes to paying their bills,’ he said, hopping down from the cart.

  ‘Money must be a terrible curse then,’ I said.

  ‘I think it’s more of a curse to be poor, Cissy, and apart from the Brettons, I’d say that applies to most of the town.’

  ‘You’d think they’d share it out a bit, wouldn’t you?’

  Colm laughed. ‘I can’t see that happening any time soon.’

  ‘They’ll have trouble when they reach the Pearly Gates then,’ I said.

  ‘And how do you work that out?’

  ‘Well, it says in the Bible that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.’

  ‘We’ll go flying through then,’ said Colm, giggling.

  I grinned at him.

  'Now, Cissy, you must never go to the front door, you must always go round the back to the kitchens. The likes of us aren’t good enough to be seen at the front door.’

  I looked down at my clothes and my old boots. ‘I don’t think I’m dressed for the Honourables, Colm.’

  ‘Yer grand, Cissy. Now all you have to do is knock on the kitchen door and ask for the jug. You bring that back to me and I’ll fill it with milk.’

  ‘Okay, Colm,’ I replied. My old boots crunched on the pebbles as I walked towards the back door. I was just about to knock when two children came running round the side of the house. They stopped dead when they saw me. They both looked a bit older than me. The girl was very beautiful with golden curls bouncing on her shoulders and very blue eyes. She had on a fine grey woollen dress and lovely warm boots. We stared at each other.

  ‘What do you want, girl?’ she said, looking me up and down.

  ‘I’m helping Colm with the milk round,’ I answered.

  ‘I’m helping Colm with the milk round,’ she mimicked in a sing-song voice. ‘Isn’t she an absolute riot, Peter?’ she said, laughing.

  The boy didn't speak, he just smiled at me. He looked nice, nicer than his sister anyway. I tried to hide my dirty old boots. I suddenly wanted to be wearing a fine woollen dress and lovely warm boots, like the girl with the golden hair.

  ‘How can you prove you’re helping this Colm person with the milk round?’ she sneered. ‘How do I know you’re not a thief? You look like a thief, doesn’t she, Peter? Doesn’t she look like a thief?’

  ‘Stop it, Caro,’ said the boy.

  ‘I’m not a thief,’ I said angrily.

  ‘You address me as Miss Caroline when you speak to me, girl, and you address my brother as Master Peter.’

  I could feel my face going red.

  ‘Well?’ she said.

  ‘I won’t be calling you Miss Caroline,’ I shouted. ‘I’d just as soon be calling you Miss Baggy Knickers!’

  Her eyes looked like two angry little slits as she advanced towards me and grabbed hold of my arm. ‘How dare you speak to your betters like that, you little guttersnipe! Peter, I order you to give her a good thrashing.’

  Just then the kitchen door opened and a young woman stood there glaring at us. She was wearing a white apron and she was drying her hands on a towel. ‘What in the name of all that’s holy is this racket about?’ she said.

  ‘This is none of your business, Bridie,’ said the girl.

  ‘It’s outside my kitchen door so it is my business.’

  ‘She called Caroline Miss Baggy Knickers, Bridie,’ said Peter, grinning.

  ‘And we’re going to give her a good thrashing,’ said the girl.

  ‘You’ll be giving no one a good thrashing, Miss Caroline, and I suggest you get back to your own part of the house and stay there.’

  Miss Caroline glared at her.

  ‘Be gone before I set the dog on ya.’

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ said Miss Caroline.

  ‘Try me,’ said Bridie.

  ‘I’ll tell my father.’

  ‘You can tell God Almighty Himself for all I care, now get along with you.’

  Miss Caroline stomped off, followed by the boy, who turned around and winked at me. I grinned and winked back.

  ‘Right then,’ said Bridie, ‘and what are you wanting?’

  ‘I’m helping Colm with the milk round, Miss. And I’ve to collect the jug.’

  ‘I’ll get it for ya and you don’t need to call me Miss, Bridie will do just fine. And what’s your name, child?’

  ‘It’s Cissy,’ I said. ‘Cissy Ryan.’

  ‘Well, wait there, Cissy Ryan, and try not to get into any more trouble while I fetch the jugs.’

  I waited at the door, looking around me, ready to run, in case the horrid girl came back and gave me a thrashing. ‘Don’t you be worrying about Miss Caroline,’ said Bridie, handing me two jugs. ‘She’s a little madam and no mistake.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  I took the jugs back to Colm, who was standing by the cart. He dipped a big ladle into the churn and filled the two jugs with creamy white milk.

  ‘I’ll take these back to the house, you wait for me here, Cissy.’

  I stroked old Blue and he nuzzled me with his nose. I’d been frightened of Blue when I’d first made his acquaintance but now I loved him. Blue didn’t care what I was wearing, he was a true friend. I stroked his back and leaned into him.

  ‘I don’t like the Honourables, Blue,’ I whispered.

  Colm came back and I climbed up onto the cart beside him.

  ‘You’ve gone awful quiet again, Cissy,’ he said as we sped along.

  ‘I did an awful bad thing, Colm,’ I said.

  ‘Did you now?’

  ‘I did, and I think
you’re going to be terrible cross with me and I don’t think you’ll let me help you with the milk again.’

  ‘Well, that sounds mighty serious to me.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘And could you be telling me what this awful thing is?’

  I hung my head and stared down at the floor of the cart. ‘I called Miss Caroline Miss Baggy Knickers.’

  Colm didn’t say anything so I knew he must be very angry but then I saw his shoulders moving up and down and realised that he was laughing fit to bust. ‘You called Miss Caroline “Baggy Knickers”?’

  ‘I did, Colm.’

  He was almost choking with laughter, tears were rolling down his face and then we were both laughing and we laughed all the way round town and people must have thought the two of us were mad. I loved everything about Colm and I wanted to be his friend forever.

  Chapter Five

  Months had passed and I was beginning to enjoy living in Paradise Alley. My life in the Union Workhouse seemed a long time ago and although I still missed Nora, I had no desire to go back.

  One morning, I’d dragged the bucket of water back to the cottage from the pump at the end of the alley and I was busy washing the little window and talking to the granddaddy. I’d been talking to the granddaddy for the past week. It had felt a bit odd to start with because the granddaddy never talked back but now it didn’t bother me and I was having a great time telling him everything I’d been doing.

  ‘I helped Colm with the milk round,’ I said, dipping the rag into the bucket and giving the window a good rub. ‘And I called the Honourable Miss Caroline Miss Baggy Knickers because she was mean and nasty even though she was an Honourable and she was wearing a lovely woollen dress and she had grand stout boots on her feet… I thought Colm was going to be cross with me but he laughed, Granddaddy, he laughed so hard he was crying and that made me laugh as well.’ I gave the window another good rub and carried on talking. ‘I’d like a little dog, Granddaddy, just a small little dog, and if I had a little dog, I’d call him Buddy. Don’t you think that Buddy is a grand name for a dog? Yes, I do, too. I’d take him for walks across the fields and down to the quay. You could come too, Granddaddy. We could walk across the fields, just you and me and Buddy. It would be good for your old legs to go walking and it would make a welcome change for them to walk over the fields instead of walking to the pub. You could lean on me and we could stop now and then to give your old legs a bit of a rest. I wouldn’t mind stopping for a rest, Granddaddy. We could sit on a wall and watch the boats and get an ice cream. Do you like ice cream, Granddaddy? I thought you might because I like it too. The only trouble is we’d need some money, so I’m thinking you could save up your baccy money for a few weeks and then we’d be grand altogether.’

  I stopped talking and stood back to look at my handiwork. The little window was bright and shiny, although I’d have to do the outside in a minute because it was still a bit smeary. I felt my eyes filling up with tears. ‘The mammy says I’m not allowed to mention the workhouse, Granddaddy, but I miss it sometimes. When I was in there my name was Martha and I had no mammy. And then I was Cissy and I had a mammy. Don’t you think that’s awful strange, Granddaddy? I miss my friend Nora, I miss playing with her in the yard. I worry about Nora, Granddaddy, because that spawn of the Devil Biddy Duggan pinches her little arm till she cries.’ I gave a big sniff and wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my cardigan. ‘I used to think you were the Devil, Granddaddy, and I’m sorry about that because I can see you haven’t got a tail and your eyes don’t burn like two red coals in your head. It was wrong of me to think you were the Devil but I’m only six and I make lots of mistakes. I’ll know better when I grow up.’ I dipped my rag into the water. ‘I saw the sea, Granddaddy, and it went on forever, way out past the lighthouse and over the edge of the world. I thought it was a river but Colm said it was definitely the sea. I asked Colm if he knew the difference between a river and the sea and he said he didn’t know and I’d have to ask my teacher when I went to school.’

  ‘Colm Doyle is an eejit,’ said the granddaddy suddenly. I got such a shock to hear him talking that I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  ‘And so was his granddaddy before him. A couple of eejits, the pair of them.’

  I stared at him hard.

  ‘Colm Doyle is an eejit,’ he said again, ‘if he doesn’t know the difference between a river and the sea.’

  ‘He paid no mind to his teachers at school, Granddaddy.’

  ‘Then he’s a bigger eejit than I gave him credit for. You don’t need a teacher to tell you the difference between a river and the feckin’ sea. It’s common feckin’ sense.’

  I knew the granddaddy was saying curse words but I didn’t mind, at least he was finally talking to me.

  ‘A river is fresh water, it comes down from the hills and it joins other rivers and streams and brooks and then it meets the sea. A river always meets the sea and then the river and the sea become one. Another thing that eejit Colm Doyle should know is that the sea is full of salt. Has the boy never been for a feckin’ swim?’

  ‘I didn’t ask him, Granddaddy.’

  He didn’t speak again so I said, ‘Can I get you a grand cup of tea, Granddaddy?’

  ‘You can, child,’ he said and then to my surprise he added, ‘And thank you.’

  I was so pleased I thought I’d burst. ‘I’ll get you a grand cup of tea, Granddaddy, and I’ll put piles of sugar in it.’

  The granddaddy looked up at me and nodded his old head.

  Chapter Six

  When I was seven years old, I started school at the convent, which was at the other end of the town. I liked school and I loved my teacher, Sister Bridgette, who had a lovely kind face and carried sweeties in her pocket for the good girls. I got a sweetie every day. You couldn’t see Sister Bridgette’s hair because it was tucked under her black veil but I imagined it to be the colour of sunshine, all shiny and yellow. I would have enjoyed school a lot more if I didn’t have the granddaddy to worry about. Who was going to get his tea and run his errands and make sure he got a proper wash so that he didn’t smell like a dead ferret while I was out all day? I’d grown to love the granddaddy and I think he loved me too.

  The mammy said I wasn’t to worry about him because he was more than capable of getting his own tea and it would do him a pile of good to look after himself but I still worried about him, because his old legs didn’t work so good and he’d miss our conversations. Mammy said he’d probably be glad of the silence but I thought he liked listening to me even if he didn’t talk much.

  ‘I’ll look in on him,’ said Colm, when I told him of my worries. ‘I’ll make him a grand cup of tea and bring the water up from the pump.’

  ‘He likes piles of sugar,’ I said, ‘but not too much milk. He says milk upsets his old war wound.’

  ‘And what war would that be, the Crimean?’

  ‘He didn’t say which war it was, Colm, he just said that talking about it upsets his system and so does too much milk.’

  Colm grinned, showing his lovely white teeth. ‘I’ll go careful on the milk then, Cissy.’

  ‘Don’t forget the sugar, just pile it into the cup. That’s what he likes best, it makes him lick his old lips.’

  Once I knew that Colm would look in on the granddaddy I felt happier and began to enjoy going to school more. I sat next to Mary Butler. Mary was very beautiful; her hair was thick and brown with bits of red in it and her eyes were green like the sea. She became my second best friend. I told her that Nora would always be my best friend and she said she didn’t mind one bit about being second because her best friend was her dog Eddie.

  Sister Bridgette taught us all about the Saints and the Martyrs who died for their faith. She showed us pictures of them being tortured on big wheels. One day, Breda Daley got sick all over Maureen Casey, who was mighty fierce and didn’t take kindly to getting sicked all over and whacked her over the head with a copy of Lives of the Saints. Sister Bridgette s
ent her to the Mother Superior for her trouble.

  After school, I’d run home to check on the granddaddy. I’d get his tea and put more peat on the fire because he said there was no blood left in his body only water and his old bones suffered from the cold. After I made sure he was settled, I’d meet Mary and we’d walk out the strand and run along the beach with Eddie. We both loved the sea very much. We’d take our boots off and stand at the edge and let the cold water run over our toes and Eddie would run into the waves. You never knew what the sea was going to look like; some days it would be calm with little waves lapping the shore but other times it would race right up the old stone wall and splash over the top, making us run back, squealing, as the spray soaked our clothes.

  One afternoon we walked up the hill to the workhouse. I hoped that maybe Nora would be looking out the window and then maybe she would see me and come outside. We stared through the gaps in the big gates but there was no one in the yard.

  ‘Did you really live here, Cissy?’ said Mary, pulling a face.

  I nodded.

  ‘Was it awful? It looks awful.’

  ‘No, it was nice.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t look very nice,’ said Mary. ‘It looks like a prison.’

  I was feeling sad and angry because I’d felt sure that if I came up here I’d see Nora.

  ‘What do you know?’ I yelled at her. ‘You didn’t live here, did you? I was happy here and I wish I was back, so there.’ I flounced down the hill ahead of her.

  ‘Wait, Cissy,’ shouted Mary, running after me.

  I slowed down and waited for her to catch me up.

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Cissy,’ she said. ‘I’m really sorry, don’t be cross with me. I shouldn’t have said it looks like a prison.’

  I smiled at her. ‘I’m not cross with you, it’s just that I miss it sometimes and I thought I’d see my friend Nora.’ I looked back at the tall building that was once my home. ‘I suppose it does look a bit like a prison, Mary, but I didn’t want to leave it –and I didn’t want to leave Nora.’