by Sandy Taylor
‘If it’s none of my business then tell me but sometimes it’s better to share a worry than carry it on your own.’
‘Who says I’m worried?’ I snapped. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me and I haven’t changed and I don’t need to talk to you about anything, Colm Doyle, so I suggest you keep your own counsel and leave me to mine.’
Colm put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around to face him.
‘I care about you, Cissy, and I don’t want you to get hurt. If I’m wrong then I’m sorry, but I have a feeling this has something to do with Master Peter Bretton.’
I pulled away from him and started to walk back up the beach.
‘And what if it is?’ I shouted. ‘What is it to you? I’m almost sixteen, I’m not a child any more and I don’t have to ask your permission to be friends with Peter.’
‘Friends, is it?’
‘Yes, friends.’
‘Then good luck to you, Cissy Ryan, and I hope it stays fine for ya.’
We walked back home in silence and with every step I took, I felt worse and worse. Colm was my dearest friend, he was like my brother and I’d been mean to him and rude too. I was sorry but I couldn’t tell him that because I was full of anger and I needed someone to be angry at. I remembered a time when he had been my whole world, when I only had to see his face to be happy, a time when my dearest wish was to be his wife. Where had those feelings gone?
We parted without saying goodbye and there were tears in my eyes as I opened the door to the cottage.
Mammy was kneeling beside the granddaddy.
‘Go for the doctor, Cissy! Get Colm to take you in the cart.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s your granddaddy. Hurry now, hurry!’
I ran out the door and tore up the lane, screaming Colm's name. He ran round the side of the house.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said.
‘It’s the granddaddy, Colm. We have to get the doctor, we have to get him now.’
‘You go back home, Cissy. I’ll get the doctor.’
‘Please hurry.’
‘I’ll be as quick as I can, now go home.’
I ran back down Paradise Alley and into the cottage. ‘Colm is getting the doctor, Mammy.’
I ran over to Granddaddy’s chair. His eyes were closed. Buddy was lying at his feet and he looked up at me as if to say, ‘Please help.’
‘What’s wrong with him, Mammy?’
‘I don’t know, child. At first I thought he was sleeping but then Buddy started to whine and I knew something was wrong. I can’t wake him up, Cissy.’
I took hold of his hand; it felt cold and clammy and his face didn’t look right.
‘What’s wrong with his face?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘He’s not going to die, is he?’
Mammy shook her head as if to clear it. ‘I don’t know, Cissy.’
It felt like forever before Doctor Cassidy pushed open the door. ‘Why don’t you wait outside, Cissy?’ he said.
‘But I…’
Colm put his arm around my shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s give the good doctor a bit of space to do his work.’
I let myself be led outside. ‘He can’t die, Colm, he can’t.’
‘Now who said anything about dying?’
‘I love him.’
‘I know you do so I think we should say a little prayer. You never know, Himself might be looking down on us and grant your grandfather the strength to overcome this illness.’
I walked across to Blue and leant my face against his solid back, then I closed my eyes and I begged the Blessed Virgin Mary to ask her son to look down kindly on Malachi Ryan in his hour of need.
Just then Doctor Cassidy pushed open the door and came outside.
‘We need to get him up to the infirmary. Can you drive us, Colm?’
‘Of course, Doctor.’
Between them they lifted the granddaddy into the cart.
‘I’m going with him,’ I said.
‘So am I,’ said the mammy, snatching up her shawl.
Doctor Cassidy rode up beside Colm, and me and the mammy sat either side of the granddaddy. They'd covered him with his old smelly blanket and his face looked calm and untroubled as we sped along.
‘What did the doctor say?’
‘He thinks your granddaddy has had a stroke, Cissy.’
‘What’s that?’
‘He says it’s to do with the brain.’
‘But he won’t die? He’ll get better?’
Mammy looked pale and worried as she looked at me. ‘He might be better off dying, child.’
My eyes burned with unshed tears. ‘No, he won’t because I’ll look after him. I will, Mammy. I’ll look after him.’
Mammy reached over and held my hand. ‘I know you will, love, but I’m not sure that’s what he would want.’
‘Well, he’s not going to die and that’s that.’
‘Then maybe he won’t, Cissy, maybe he won’t.’
I smoothed his old head and whispered in his ear, ‘I need you, Granddaddy. Please don’t leave me.’
As we started to race through the town I saw Buddy running behind us.
‘Stop, Colm! I have to get Buddy.’
‘Whoa, Blue!’ said Colm and we stopped to let Buddy jump up onto the cart.
The infirmary was attached to the workhouse and we were soon going through the big iron gates. Doctor Cassidy ran inside to get help. Two men came out with a stretcher and carried the granddaddy inside.
‘The dog won’t be allowed in there, Cissy,’ said the doctor.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Colm. ‘I’ll look after him, you all stay as long as you need to.’
I looked at Colm and I felt a rush of gratitude. For as long as I could remember he had been there for me and I knew he always would be. Peter Bretton was as far from my thoughts as he could be. These were the people I loved; these were the people I would always love.
My granddaddy didn’t die but he wasn’t the man he used to be. He couldn’t talk so well and one of his old legs didn’t work any more.
‘He can’t be left, Cissy,’ said the mammy. ‘Doctor Cassidy thinks he’d be better off in the workhouse, where he can be taken care of properly.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘He has to be here at home, he’ll die if he goes in there.’
‘But he has to be looked after.’
‘Then I’ll look after him.’
‘How can you do that, girl?’
‘I’ll leave my job.’
Mammy shook her head. ‘I know you love him and I know you want to care for him and I’m proud of you for that, but you wouldn’t be able for it. He will need everything doing for him, personal things. It’s not a job for a young girl, however much you want to do it.’
‘He’ll die up there, Mammy.’
‘We didn’t die, did we?’
‘No, but he’s old and he’ll be among strangers and he won’t have Buddy. He’ll surely die of a broken heart.’
‘Then it’s our job to make sure he doesn’t. We have to make him believe that he is loved so that he doesn’t feel like he’s been abandoned.’
‘I can do that. I can visit him every evening after work.’
Mammy smiled at me. ‘And if he gets the care he needs, then maybe one day he will be well enough to come home again, but for now we have to trust in the goodness of God and those that will care for him.’
‘I thought you didn’t believe in God, Mammy.’
‘I think we all find ourselves believing in Him when death knocks at our door.’
I looked across at Buddy, who had taken to sitting in the granddaddy’s chair. He looked so lost and alone.
‘Could we bring Buddy in to see him? He must miss him something terrible. I think if he could see Buddy, it would help him to get better.’
‘Didn’t the doctor say that no dogs were allowed in there?’
‘Buddy’s not just a dog, Mammy, he’s the granddaddy’s best
friend.’
Buddy whined as if he knew we were talking about him. ‘Poor little feller,’ said Mammy. ‘He must wonder where he’s gone.’
‘So can we take him for a visit? Mr Dunne had a dog and no one seemed to mind about him and he smelt as bad as the granddaddy.’
‘Perhaps if your granddaddy goes into the workhouse, then Buddy can visit. Maybe it’s just the infirmary that don’t allow dogs.’
I didn’t want the granddaddy to go in there but if it meant that he could see Buddy then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I went across to the chair and knelt down in front of the little dog. There seemed to be so much pain in those lovely brown eyes that I felt like crying. I smoothed his silky ears and kissed his little nose. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll see him soon, if I have to hide you under my shawl.’ Buddy licked my face as if he knew what I was saying.
Chapter Twenty-Four
As the year went on and the seasons changed there was little change in my granddaddy. Colm collected me every evening from the Hall; he always had Buddy with him.
I grew to hate going through those big gates. It broke my heart to see Granddaddy sitting in a chair by the window, gazing out but seeming to see nothing. He knew it was me because he held my hand tightly as if he didn’t want to let it go. Buddy would jump up onto his lap and the granddaddy would absentmindedly stroke his fur. He tried to speak, but it all came out in a jumble of words that I couldn't understand. When he looked at me, his eyes had a desperation about them as if he was trying to tell me that he didn’t want to be there. I talked to him like I used to when I’d first come to the cottage. He hadn’t answered me then just like he didn’t answer me now. I told him about the goings-on at the Hall and about Miss Baggy Knickers getting finished off in Switzerland. I told him how Buddy sat in his chair by the fire, waiting for him to come home. I even told him about Peter and how much I liked him. It was nice to talk about that, knowing my secret would be safe within these old grey walls. Sometimes I would read to him from the little book of poems by Mr Yeats. He seemed to enjoy listening to me; he’d close his eyes and his face would become calm and peaceful. I always told him how much he was loved so that he wouldn’t feel abandoned by me or the mammy.
It was hard to get Buddy off his lap when it was time to leave. He’d whine all the way home and couldn’t be comforted. I knew how he felt because there were times when I wanted to scream and shout at the unfairness of it all. What sort of God would leave my granddaddy in that state? He might have made some mistakes in his life but I knew he was sorry for them. He didn’t deserve what he’d got. Maybe the mammy had been right when she’d said it would have been better if he’d died. I understood now why she’d said it; she was wiser than me. I’d wanted the granddaddy to live for my sake, I hadn’t thought about what he might have wanted. I had a lot of growing up to do. Sometimes what you want isn’t the most important thing in the world.
I was seeing less and less of Peter because I spent every spare moment up at the workhouse and he didn’t like it. One day he followed me out to the clothes line. It was a beautiful autumn day and he wanted us to go for a walk in the woods later on.
‘What’s the point of me coming home to see you when you’re never here?’ he said.
‘You know why I can’t see you, I have to visit my granddaddy.’
‘Every day?’
‘Yes.’
‘And I wish you wouldn’t call him your granddaddy, Cissy, it sounds so… so…’
‘So what?’ I asked.
‘Common,’ said Peter.
‘Well, maybe that’s because I am common. It’s never bothered you before.’
‘I don’t think I’ve noticed it much before but honestly, Cissy, he’s all you ever talk about these days.’
‘And what do you want me to talk about? Us?’
‘Well, it would certainly make a pleasant change.’
I picked up the empty basket and started walking back to the house. ‘There is no us,’ I said, ‘and I’m sorry that my granddaddy’s illness is causing you so much inconvenience.’
He pulled at my arm. ‘Don’t go in yet, stay a bit longer.’
I shrugged him off. ‘Some of us have to work for a living, Master Peter. We can’t all hang around, doing nothing.’
‘Look, I’m sorry. It all came out wrong.’
I stared at him. ‘Did it?’
‘I’m sorry about your grandfather, I am, but I miss you. Surely we can find some time to be together?’
He did look sorry and if I was truthful, I’d missed him too. ‘I’ll try and get back early,’ I said.
Peter smiled. ‘Thank you, Cissy, and I didn’t mean it when I said you were common, truly I didn’t.’
I went into the kitchen. Mrs Hickey was making pastry; her hair was white from all the flour that was floating around her. She stared at me and then spoke. ‘What did Master Peter want with you, Cissy? It looked as if the two of you were arguing.’
I could feel myself blushing under her stare. ‘He was just passing the time of day, Mrs Hickey,’ I replied.
‘Well, that’s not what it looked like to me and forgive me, but why would Master Peter be needing to pass the day with you at all?’
‘I don’t know,’ I mumbled.
Mrs Hickey was pummelling away at the pastry as if her life depended on it. ‘People notice more than you think,’ she said.
‘I told you, we were only talking.’
‘It’s what you were talking about that bothers me.’
‘Thank you for your concern, Mrs Hickey, but I can look after myself.’
‘I hope you can, child, I hope you can,’ she said, more gently now.
Mrs Hickey was kind, she wasn’t a gossip. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude,’ I said.
‘And I didn’t mean to be nosy, but it’s because I care about you. I don’t want you getting hurt.’
And all of a sudden I was blubbing and Mrs Hickey’s arms were around me, covering my uniform with flour.
‘Sit down there, love, and I’ll get us both a good strong cup of tea,’ she said gently.
I sat down and rested my head on the table. It was all too much. The granddaddy and Peter and then Mrs Hickey’s kindness had unleashed something in me that I’d been trying desperately to keep inside.
‘Better out than in,’ said Mrs Hickey, placing a steaming cup of tea in front of me. ‘You can always talk to me, Cissy, and I will do my best to help you.’
‘Thank you, but this is something I have to work out for myself.’
‘Well, I’m here if you need me is all I’m saying.’
Just then Annie came into the kitchen. Her face was covered in soot and she looked so funny, it broke the ice and me and Mrs Hickey burst out laughing.
‘What’s so funny?’ said Annie, looking confused.
‘You,’ said Mrs Hickey. ‘And God bless you for it, child, it was just what we needed.’
‘Glad to be of service to ya,’ said Annie, grinning.
I tried to put Peter out of my mind for the rest of the day and I was relieved when my work was finished and I ran down the drive to meet Colm. Buddy was all over me as I climbed up onto the cart.
‘You know where you’re going, don’t you, boy?’ I said, ruffling his ears. Buddy licked my face as if he understood what I was saying.
My heart sank as we went through the gates. Buddy was down from the cart as soon as we stopped. I left Colm chatting to Mr Dunne and walked slowly along the dark brown corridor to the ward. I hated it here. I hated the smell of the place; it smelt of despair and dying things and hopelessness. It filled my nose with a stench that was worse than the granddaddy. I could hardly breathe. My poor granddaddy was stuck here when I knew he wanted to be at home in his old chair covered with his smelly blanket.
‘Could I bring his blanket into him, Mammy?’ I’d asked one day. ‘It might make him feel more at home.’
‘That old blanket gives Buddy comfort and I don’t think they’d want it on the ward,�
� she’d said.
As I pushed open the ward door, I felt sick. I felt like running away from this place and never coming back, but Buddy was wagging his tail and making little squeaking noises. He couldn’t wait to get to his beloved friend.
As I walked into the room, a nurse came up to me.
‘He’s not so well today, Cissy, I’m not sure you should be visiting.’
‘Tell that to Buddy,’ I said, as the little dog ran to find the granddaddy.
‘Don’t stay long then,’ said the nurse.
He wasn’t in a chair today, he was in bed. I hardly recognised him. His hair, which was usually stuck up all over the place, had been smarmed down on his head. Buddy was already cuddled up beside him but the granddaddy didn’t seem to know that he was there. He was as still as anything. His two old hands were resting on top of a grey blanket. He looked too tidy, too still. He didn’t look like my granddaddy and he didn’t smell like my granddaddy – it was as if this place had taken him away from me. My eyes filled with tears as I took one of his hands and brought it up to my cheek.
‘Granddaddy?’ I whispered. ‘It’s me, Cissy, and Buddy’s here too.’
I sat beside him, willing him to open his eyes and smile at me and stroke Buddy’s soft fur, but he didn’t move. The only sound was a kind of rattle as he breathed in and out. I got up and walked across to the window that looked out over the graveyard. Was this what Granddaddy stared at as he sat in the chair?
I watched the leaves falling from the trees and settling on the graves like a patchwork blanket of reds and golds. I loved autumn. It reminded me of walking through the woods with Colm but today the beauty of it seemed all wrong. There should be a storm raging outside; there should be wind and rain battering the windows, not this calmness, not this beauty.
And then Buddy whined. I turned back towards the bed. Granddaddy’s eyes were open and he was staring at me. I hurried to his side. ‘I’m here,’ I said. ‘Cissy’s here.’
I held his hand and he gripped it with a strength I didn’t know he had in him and then he mumbled something. I put my ear close to his mouth. ‘I’m listening,’ I said gently.
‘I want…’ he said. ‘I want…’
