The Little Orphan Girl

by Sandy Taylor

  ‘Is Nora coming home with us, Mammy?’

  ‘I thought you would like to be together on Christmas Day.’

  My eyes filled with tears. I threw my arms around her. ‘Oh, thank you, Mammy! Thank you, thank you!’

  ‘One thank you is enough, Cissy. Now let’s get away home.’

  I said goodbye to Mary and then Nora and I held hands as we walked through the town beside Mammy. I wanted to skip and jump and shout with happiness but I knew that would make the mammy cross and I didn’t want anyone to be cross on this special day.

  People were calling out ‘Happy Christmas, Moira! Happy Christmas, Cissy!’ as we walked through the town and Mammy was returning the greeting. I remembered back to the day we’d left the workhouse. People were saying hello to Mammy that day but she hadn’t said hello back. Maybe the mammy was happier these days.

  When we got back to the cottage, I ran inside to tell the granddaddy that Nora was going to spend the day with us but he wasn’t in his chair. The fire burnt brightly but there was no Granddaddy sitting beside it.

  ‘Where’s the granddaddy?’ I asked.

  ‘Sure, how would I know?’ Mammy said. ‘Haven’t I been up at the church with you?’

  ‘He might still be in his bed,’ I said, running up the stairs – but he wasn’t. I ran down again. ‘He's not there, Mammy. Shall I ask Colm if he’s seen him?’

  ‘You do that, child,’ she said.

  ‘Come on, Nora, you can see Blue.’

  Nora couldn’t run so good on account of her poorly leg so we walked slowly up to the end of Paradise Alley. Colm’s daddy was around the back, brushing out the yard.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Cissy,’ he said, when he saw me.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Mr Doyle.’

  ‘And what brings you here?’

  ‘We’ve lost the granddaddy.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘It is,’ I said. ‘He’s not sitting beside the fire and he’s not in his bed.’

  ‘Perhaps you should call the guards out, Cissy,’ he said.

  ‘Do you think I should?’

  ‘I’m only kiddin’ ya, child,’ he said, grinning. ‘Colm has taken your granddaddy out for a bit of a spin, so you’ve no need to be worrying yourself.’

  ‘Well, that’s a weight off my shoulders, Mr Doyle. I was beginning to think that he was lost forever.’

  ‘You have a vivid imagination, girl,’ he said, laughing.

  ‘That’s what Mrs Foley used to say.’

  ‘And imagination is a great thing altogether. Do you like to read, Cissy?’

  ‘I do, Mr Doyle.’

  ‘Then come and see me sometime and you can borrow one of my books. I’m a desperate great reader.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Mr Doyle, I’ll definitely do that.’

  ‘You’re very welcome, child.’

  ‘Can I take Nora to see Blue?’

  ‘Well, you could, but isn’t he out pulling the trap with your granddaddy in? Sure he wouldn’t get much of a spin without old Blue pulling him along now, would he?’

  ‘He wouldn’t, Mr Doyle.’

  ‘Now why don’t you come back up after you’ve had your dinner and then your little friend can see Blue and you can choose a book?’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Doyle,’ I said. ‘Come on, Nora.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, following me.

  When we got round to the front of the house I could see Blue and the trap standing outside our cottage.

  I opened the door and we went inside. The mammy and Colm were standing beside the fire smiling at me and the granddaddy was sitting in his chair. He had something on his lap, something brown and furry; something that looked like Buddy. My eyes filled with tears. The granddaddy gave me a crooked little smile. I went across and knelt beside him. I put my head on his old knee. ‘Oh, thank you,’ I said. ‘Thank you for getting Buddy for me.’

  ‘Happy Christmas, Cissy,’ he said.

  I took Buddy in my arms and stroked his soft fur. He licked the tears that were running down my cheeks.

  ‘I love you, Granddaddy,’ I said softly. ‘I love you with all my heart and I don’t mind that you smell like a dead ferret. I still love you.’

  The granddaddy stroked my hair. ‘And I love you, Cissy. I love you too.’

  ‘I want you to remember what has just happened this day, Colm,’ said the mammy, ‘because a miracle has just occurred.’

  Everyone started to laugh but I didn’t laugh because then it wouldn’t be special, it would be ordinary. And I didn’t want it to be ordinary. There was no star above our little cottage and there were no Wise Men outside our door but to me it was as special as that other Christmas so long ago, when the Baby Jesus was born. I wanted to take this day and put it in a box, so that if I ever felt lonely or scared, I could look inside and see it again and feel the way I felt today and I could remember. I looked around the room at all the people I loved and I thought that I was the luckiest girl in the whole world.

  Chapter Nine

  I loved to read at school but there were no books in the cottage; the mammy couldn’t afford things like that. One day, I walked up the alley to Colm’s house.

  ‘And what can we do for you, Cissy?’ said Mr Doyle, opening the door.

  ‘I’ve come for a book,’ I said shyly.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ he said.

  I followed him.

  ‘I love to read, Mr Doyle.’

  ‘I can’t think of a finer way to spend a few hours than to bury yourself in a good book,’ he said. ‘Who taught you?’

  ‘Mrs Foley up at the workhouse. She taught me and Nora.’

  ‘Ah, the little friend you brought up here?’

  I nodded. I followed him into a room next to the kitchen. Against one wall was a dresser full of books.

  ‘Have a good look, Cissy, and choose one you like the look of. The children’s books are on the bottom shelf.’

  ‘Were they Colm’s books?’

  ‘No, Colm has never been much of a reader, he was more of an outside feller. He couldn’t abide being cooped up indoors. They belonged to a little girl called Ellen and just like you, she loved to read. This was her favourite,’ he said, picking out a book and handing it to me.

  ‘The Water Babies,’ I read.

  ‘She loved that book,’ said Mr Doyle.

  I opened the book and inside the front cover it said, ‘To Ellen on your eighth birthday with love from Mammy and Daddy’.

  ‘Who’s Ellen, Mr Doyle?’

  ‘She was my little girl and Colm’s sister,’ he said.

  ‘Colm’s got a sister? Where is she?’

  ‘She passed away when she was nine,’ he said sadly. ‘She was a lovely little thing, bright as a button and full of life.’

  I didn’t know what to say, because Mr Doyle was staring away into the distance as if he was remembering his little girl.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Doyle,’ I said softly.

  He looked at me with some surprise as if he’d only just realised that I was standing there, then he shook his head as if trying to clear it. ‘It was a long time ago, Cissy,’ he said, ‘but I kept these books and now I’m glad that I did, for it will give me pleasure to know that they will be enjoyed again.’

  ‘I’ll take really good care of it.’

  ‘I know you will and when you’ve finished it, you can bring it back and choose another one.’

  I walked back down the alley holding the book very carefully. It felt solid in my hands. My tummy twisted with excitement at the thought of what lay within its pages and I thought of the other little girl who had held it before me.

  Every day after school I ran home to get the granddaddy his tea, then I’d take Buddy for a walk over the fields. Buddy was a year old now and it was hard to remember a time when he hadn’t lived in the little cottage with us. He had made Paradise Alley his home and he was as happy living there as I was.

  Sometimes Granddaddy came with us. The more we walked, the
stronger his legs became.

  Our favourite place was a rough old field filled with cowpats and weeds. It wasn’t the prettiest place in the world, in fact, people called it the slob, because a sewer trickled through the middle of it. But it was close to Paradise Alley and it wasn’t far for the granddaddy to walk. It ran alongside the Blackwater River and on the opposite bank, the cottages tumbled down to the river’s edge.

  ‘Your old legs are doing great altogether, Granddaddy,’ I said as we walked along. ‘I think they’re getting used to passing the pub.’

  The granddaddy nodded his old head. ‘I’ve no mind for the drink these days, child.’

  ‘Aren’t you thirsty any more?’

  ‘I have a desperate thirst, Cissy, but not for the drink.’

  I couldn’t understand that because if you had a desperate thirst, you’d be needing a drink.

  ‘These days,’ he said, ‘I have a thirst for God’s good clean air and the green grass beneath my feet and the changing of the seasons and the flowing of the river. I’ve sat in that chair for so long that I’d forgotten there was a world outside those four walls.’

  ‘That was a grand bit of talking you just did, Granddaddy.’

  ‘I’ve more to say these days.’

  ‘I think you’re a bit like Buddy. Mr Collins said he wouldn’t come to much because he was the munt of the litter.’

  ‘Runt, Cissy, he was the runt.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. Yes, because he was the runt of the litter, but Mr Collins saved him and now he’s the best dog in the whole world. Not that I’m saying you’re the runt of the litter, Granddaddy,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Buddy was saved because of you, Cissy, because you cared about him and I think you saved me too, with your constant chattering. Even when I didn’t answer, you never gave up on me, just like you never gave up on Buddy.’

  The little dog was running ahead of us, poking his head into holes and sniffing at things only he found mysterious. Every now and then he’d run back with bits of twig in his mouth or a dried wing from a dead bird. He’d lay them at our feet and wag his tail as if to say, ‘Look what I've brought you, aren’t I the clever one?’ then he’d be off again, looking for the next offering. Buddy was getting stronger every day; he wasn’t a poor little thing any more. I loved him so much and I could tell by his warm wet kisses that he loved me too.

  ‘Now I think we should head home,’ said the granddaddy, rubbing at his old legs. ‘I need to get a lot stronger before I can keep up with you and that dog.’

  We walked back home with the granddaddy’s hand in mine. His hand felt rough and bony and cold, but I liked the feel of it there: it made me feel safe. ‘Shall I tell you a secret, Granddaddy?’ I said.

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘You won’t tell a living soul, will you?’

  ‘I won’t even tell a dead one.’

  ‘I’m going to marry Colm Doyle when I grow up.’

  ‘Are you now?’

  ‘I am, and I’m going to live in Colm’s house at the top of Paradise Alley and then I can still get you your tea.’

  ‘And does Colm know about this?’

  ‘He does, he says he’ll wait for me to grow.’

  ‘Don’t grow up too fast, Cissy.’

  ‘I’ll try not to, Granddaddy.’

  I liked school a lot. I liked learning about new things, reading the Bible and playing with Mary, but I missed Buddy and the granddaddy. I wanted to be out of the classroom and walking by the river with them and then I remembered Colm telling me that he hadn’t liked school one bit and would rather be galloping over the fields on Blue’s back. He didn’t learn his lessons and I think that now he wishes he had because if he’d listened to his teachers, he would have known the difference between a river and the sea. So I listened to the nuns and I worked hard, just like Colm told me to. I wanted to make Mammy and the granddaddy proud of me; I wanted to get a good job so that I could take care of them both.

  I still went on the milk round with Colm but only on a Saturday when I didn’t have school. I enjoyed getting to know all the people in the town and collecting the jugs for Colm to fill with the good creamy milk. I never went to the Honourables’ door again though, because I didn’t want to run into Miss Baggy Knickers who had made fun of me and threatened to thrash me.

  ‘You don’t want to be frightened of her, Cissy,’ said Colm. ‘She’s nothing but a stuck-up little madam who’s not fit to wipe your boots.’

  ‘But she’s an Honourable,’ I said. ‘She’s a class above me.’

  Colm pulled on Blue’s reins and stopped the trap. ‘You’re as good as she is, Cissy, better even and don’t let anyone tell you any different, okay?’

  I thought Colm was wrong but I nodded my head and said, ‘I won’t.’

  Colm kept his word and a week later, he informed me that he had changed the day that he delivered the milk to the workhouse, so that I could go with him. I wanted the week to fly past, I was so excited. I didn’t tell the mammy about it because I knew in my heart that she wouldn’t let me go and I didn’t want her dead body to be on my conscience.

  At playtime on Friday, I informed Mary that the next day I was going to the workhouse to deliver the milk.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go back, Cissy?’ she said. ‘They might keep you in there.’

  ‘Sure, why would they do that? They’re packed to the rafters already, they wouldn’t want another body in the place.’

  ‘Well, keep an eye on the door, Cissy, just in case you have to make a quick getaway.’

  ‘I will, Mary.’

  ‘Because I’d miss you if you went back there.’

  ‘Thank you, Mary, but you’ve no need to worry and it’s not as bad in there as you think it is. Maybe one day Colm will let you come as well and you can see for yourself.’

  ‘I’d be terrible afeared to go in there, Cissy,’ she said, shivering. ‘I’ve heard desperate tales about the place.’

  ‘Maureen Hurley said don’t believe everything you hear and only half of what you see.’

  ‘When were you talking to Maureen?’ said Mary.

  ‘That day I was sent to stand beside her in the corridor after the terrible instance of the Virgin having a liking for the hard stuff.’

  ‘God, Cissy! When I told my mother she said it was the funniest thing she had ever heard, especially coming from you with your fine ladylike manners.’

  ‘It wasn’t funny at the time and I’ll thank you to not be making fun of me behind my back. The memory of that day will haunt me for the rest of my life.’

  ‘You’re terrible dramatic, Cissy Ryan, but I am sorry that we had a bit of craic at your expense. You have to admit though, it was funny.’

  ‘It might have been funny to you, Mary, but I still have nightmares about it.’ I smiled at my friend. ‘I accept your apology, Mary Butler,’ I said. ‘You and your mammy.’

  ‘Thank you, Cissy.’

  ‘You’re very welcome, Mary.’

  ‘Cissy?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You know the boy who serves on the altar on a Sunday morning?’

  ‘Lots of boys serve on the altar.’

  ‘The one with red hair?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Do you think he’s nice?’

  ‘Why? Do you?’

  Mary scratched behind her ear. ‘I do,’ she said shyly.

  ‘Do you want to marry him?’

  ‘Jesus, Cissy! I only said he’s nice.’

  ‘I’m going to marry Colm Doyle when I grow up.’

  ‘Sure Colm’s ancient.’

  I wanted to convince Mary that I was serious about this. ‘He promised to wait for me,’ I stated.

  Mary made a face, wrinkling her nose up and looking as if she knew something that I didn’t.

  ‘Don’t you think he’ll wait for me, then?’

  ‘I’d say he said it just to keep you happy.’

  Was Mary right? Wasn’t Colm going to wait for me after all?
Maybe I’d got it all wrong, maybe he was playing with my feelings?

  ‘Ah sure, I could be wrong. Don’t look so sad.’

  ‘But I am sad, Mary. This is my future husband we’re talking about.’

  ‘Maybe you should ask him again.’

  ‘I’d be too ashamed to do that,’ I said.

  ‘Well, best leave it in God’s gentle hands and pray a lot.’

  That made me feel happier. ‘I’ll do that, Mary, for I know that God has my best interests at heart.’

  ‘Best do the Stations of the Cross to be on the safe side,’ said Mary.

  Just then the bell rang and we linked arms and went back into school.

  Chapter Ten

  When I woke up the next morning I was so excited, I couldn’t eat the good breakfast that the mammy had made for me.

  ‘What in God’s name is wrong with you this morning, Cissy Ryan?’ said Mammy. ‘You’re jumping around like a flea on a dog.’

  ‘I’m excited to be going on the milk round with Colm,’ I said.

  ‘Is the milk round that exciting, then?’

  I tried to force down a bit of bread so that the mammy wouldn’t get suspicious.

  ‘I just like going out with Colm.’

  I heard the trap pull up outside. ‘There he is now, Mammy. I’d best be going.’

  ‘Well, I hope your day is as exciting as you’re hoping for.’

  ‘It will be, Mammy,’ I said, running outside.

  I’d been looking forward to this morning all week but now the time had come, I felt a bit sick.

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ said Colm as Blue started trotting down Paradise Alley.

  ‘Mary said they might keep me in the workhouse if I go back.’

  ‘Mary’s an eejit, then.’

  ‘She’s not an eejit, Colm, she’s just afeared for me.’

  ‘Well, she has no need to be. Why would they be wanting a scrawny little thing like you back?’

  Colm was grinning at me so I knew he didn’t mean what he had said but his words hurt me. Was that what he saw when he looked at me? A scrawny little thing?

  Colm pulled on Blue’s reins and we stopped moving. He turned to me and held my face in his hands. ‘I’ve hurt your feelings, haven’t I?’ he said.