The Little Orphan Girl

by Sandy Taylor

  After I’d finished my dinner and helped clear away the dishes, I went upstairs and changed out of my uniform. I tiptoed past Mrs Hickey, who was sitting in her chair by the fire with her eyes closed. I grabbed my coat and went outside, closing the door quietly behind me. It was pitch-black and cold. I put my hands in my pockets and walked round the side of the house to the woodshed. Peter was waiting for me.

  ‘Let’s go inside, it will be warmer,’ he said, taking my hand and opening the door.

  ‘No,’ I said, looking inside the dark shed.

  ‘We’ll freeze out here,’ he insisted.

  ‘I want to talk to you, Peter,’ I said, ‘and I’d rather do it outside.’

  ‘Sounds serious.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘I can’t meet you like this any more, people have seen us.’

  ‘What, the servants?’

  ‘They are my friends.’

  ‘They’ll keep their mouths shut then, won’t they?’

  ‘But if they’ve seen us then other people will have seen us too and it won’t be long before your family hears of it.’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘I’ll lose my job and I’ll bring shame on my family. You must understand,’ I said, ‘we have to stop meeting.’

  And then his mouth was on mine. I knew this was wrong, I tried to push him away. He didn’t smell like Colm, he smelt of another world – a world that I could never be a part of.

  I struggled in his arms but his lips were on me again, only this time I didn’t resist. There was a tingle going through my body such as I had never felt before. I put my arms around him and allowed him to pull me closer. This was the most wonderful feeling I had ever felt in my life and I didn’t want it to end.

  We stayed a little while longer, just holding each other.

  We kissed again and he was gone, leaving me feeling confused and alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I needed to talk to someone, so on my Sunday off, I went to Mass, hoping to see Mary, but when the people from the workhouse came down the hill she wasn’t with them. I found Mrs Foley instead.

  ‘I was hoping to see Mary,’ I told her.

  ‘Sure, Mary doesn’t work here any more,’ said Mrs Foley.

  Well, this was news to me. ‘Where’s she working?’

  ‘Out at the Green Park Hotel.’

  ‘Well, that’s a surprise,’ I said.

  ‘Well, it was no surprise to me, Cissy. The young ones don’t seem to stay long.’

  ‘I thought she was doing alright at the workhouse.’

  ‘She was, and she’s a nice girl. I was sorry to lose her but there you are, it’s not for everyone.’

  ‘I suppose not. I’ll call in at her house and see if she’s there.’

  ‘Give her my love and tell her she’s missed.’

  ‘I will, Mrs Foley.’

  I watched them all troop into the church, then made my way to Mary’s house.

  I knocked on the door and one of Mary’s sisters let me in. ‘I’ve come to see Mary,’ I said.

  I could see Mrs Butler washing one of the babies in the sink. ‘Who is it?’ she shouted

  ‘It’s Cissy Ryan, come to see Mary,’ said the girl. She looked like a younger version of Mary; she had the same green eyes and lovely thick hair.

  Mary came running down the stairs and gave me a hug.

  ‘Could we go somewhere and talk?’ I said.

  ‘We could go to Minnie’s cafe for a cup of tea and a cake. Have you got any money on ya?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Is it alright if I go to Minnie’s with Mary, Mammy?’

  ‘I thought you had a belly ache?’

  ‘I’m feeling a lot better now, Mammy.’

  ‘Isn’t it strange, Mary, that you are well enough to go to Minnie’s but not to Holy Mass?’

  ‘It’s a mystery alright,’ said Mary, winking at me.

  ‘Away with you then.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Butler,’ I said.

  Mrs Butler smiled at me. ‘And how are things up at the Hall? I hear there’s to be a grand ball at Christmas for Miss Caroline.’

  ‘There is, everyone is very excited.’

  ‘Have a nice time at Minnie’s, then.’

  ‘We will.’

  We walked through the town and out towards the strand. There was a cold wind blowing in from the sea.

  ‘Jesus, it’s bloody freezing!’ said Mary.

  ‘At least it will be warm in Minnie’s.’

  ‘It better be,’ said Mary, pulling her coat tighter around her.

  ‘Did you really have a belly ache?’ I asked, blowing on my hands.

  ‘No, but it’s me day off and I had to go to Mass every bloody Sunday when I worked up the hill. I’ll confess me sins to Father Kelly on Saturday.’

  That made me think about what Peter had said. Maybe he was right after all.

  ‘I shouldn’t think missing Mass once in a blue moon is a hanging offence,’ said Mary.

  ‘I can’t believe you left the workhouse.’

  ‘I couldn’t stand it another minute, Cissy. There were days when it felt as if the walls were closing in on me. It was like being in a prison.’

  Listening to Mary describe the place as being like a prison made me feel sort of sad because I had been so happy growing up there and all my memories were good ones.

  ‘Didn’t your mammy mind you leaving?’

  ‘I got a job at the hotel before telling her, so she’s fine about it.’

  ‘Imagine, working in a hotel! Do you like it?’

  ‘I love it, Cissy. You meet so many people, every day is different. Up the hill every bloody day was the same.’

  ‘What do you do?’

  ‘I make beds, I clean rooms, I help with the laundry. In fact, I do everything I told you I wouldn’t do!’

  ‘As long as you’re happy, Mary, I’d say that’s all that matters.’

  ‘Jesus if I don’t get in out of the cold in a minute my toes are going to fall off!’ said Mary, quickening her step.

  I couldn’t feel my feet either by the time we got to Minnie’s and was delighted when we opened the door and were greeted by a rush of warm air.

  ‘Come in, girls, come in!’ said Minnie the owner. ‘There’s a grand big fire over there and a nice table right in front of it. Take off your coats so that you feel the benefit when you go back outside.’

  ‘It’s desperate cold out there, Minnie,’ I told her.

  ‘And I’ve had very few customers because of it, so you are very welcome, girls.’

  ‘We’d like two teas and two pieces of your apple cake, please,’ said Mary.

  I stood in front of the fire and held my hands out towards the flames while Mary waited for the tea and cake.

  ‘You go and sit down,’ said Minnie, ‘and I’ll bring it across to you.’

  ‘It’s great to see you,’ said Mary, sitting down.

  ‘It’s great to see you too,’ I said. And I meant it. She was looking lovely and she seemed so happy. This is what I needed, to spend time with my friend and to laugh together as we used to.

  ‘I’d be lying if I said you looked great, Cissy,’ said Mary.

  ‘Do I look that bad?’

  ‘You look as if you lost a shilling and found a penny.’

  Minnie came over to the table, carrying the tea and cakes. ‘Now you enjoy that, girls, and if you want more tea, give me a shout.’

  ‘Thanks, Minnie,’ I said.

  ‘So what do you want to talk to me about?’

  ‘Have you ever kissed a boy, Mary? Not just a peck on the cheek but a real grown-up kiss?’

  ‘I kissed Frankie Slattery once.’

  ‘Did you like it?’

  ‘Holy Mother of God, he nearly ate the face off me!’

  ‘You didn’t like it then?’

  ‘It was like kissing a wet sponge. Have you kissed someone then? Is that what you want to talk to me about?’

  I nodded.

&
nbsp; ‘Well, go on, I’m ageing here.’

  ‘I kissed Peter.’

  ‘Peter?’

  I nodded.

  Mary looked completely blank then I could see it dawning on her who I was talking about.

  ‘Jesus, Cissy, are you talking about Peter the Honourable?’

  I nodded.

  ‘You kissed Peter the Honourable?’

  ‘Don’t sound so shocked, it wasn’t the Pope I kissed.’

  ‘It’s nearly as bad, no wonder you wanted to talk to me.’

  I rubbed the back of my ear. ‘He’s not the only one I kissed, Mary.’

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you’re getting very blowsy in yer old age, Cissy.’

  ‘Oh, don’t.’

  ‘Minnie!’ she shouted. ‘We need more tea over here, lots of it. So who else did you kiss? Mr Bretton?’

  I giggled. ‘God, no!’

  ‘Who, then?’

  ‘Colm. I kissed Colm in the woods.’

  Mary bit into a piece of apple cake. Some apple dribbled down her chin and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. ‘Well, now you’re talking sense,’ she said. ‘You have every right to be kissing Colm. I wouldn’t mind having a go at him meself. Was it lovely?’

  ‘Yes, it was, but that’s not the point, Mary.’

  ‘Well, what is the point?’ she said, sipping the tea.

  ‘I shouldn’t have kissed him, I led him on.’

  ‘And you didn’t lead the Honourable on?’

  ‘It was different, Mary.’

  ‘Colm I can understand, but not the other feller.’

  ‘You’re going to tell me he’s out of my class, aren’t you?’

  ‘I wasn’t, but he is, Cissy, and no good can come of it.’ Mary reached across the table and held my hand. ‘But you don’t need me to tell you that. You have to finish it, you know.’

  ‘But why must I?’

  ‘Because you’ll be thrown out on yer ear and while you’re bringing shame on your family, he’ll be coming on to the next silly girl who’s daft enough to fall for his charms.’

  ‘I can’t finish it, Mary, because he makes me feel so wonderful. When he kissed me I felt this tingling from my head down to my toes. Oh, Mary, I can’t begin to tell you how he made me feel.’

  ‘I’ve a fair idea, Cissy, and I believe it’s called sex.’

  I stared at her. ‘Sex?’

  ‘It’s as old as time,’ she said, as if she was an expert on the subject.

  ‘How do you know about sex?’

  ‘I live in a two-bedroomed cottage and I have seven brothers and sisters. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. Now my advice to you, Cissy Ryan, is the next time you see the Honourable Peter Bretton, you tell him you’re not interested in his advances, then run as fast as you can in the direction of Colm Doyle. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Perfectly,’ I said.

  ‘Okay, now eat yer apple cake before I do.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It was two weeks before Christmas and things had reached fever pitch up at the Hall and we were all exhausted. Mrs Hickey’s lists were getting longer and longer and her temper was getting shorter and shorter. Poor Annie spent most of the day in tears.

  ‘I try really hard to please her, Cissy, but I can never seem to get it right. If I leave the door open, she’s too cold and if I close it, she’s too hot.’

  ‘She’s not really mad at you, Annie, she’s mad at Christmas and all the things she’s got to do. I expect that if we were in her position we’d be mad as well. As long as you do your best then it doesn’t really matter what Mrs Hickey thinks. Now dry your eyes and think of the servants’ ball on Christmas evening. That boy you danced with might be there again.’

  ‘Do you think he will?’

  I nodded. ‘But even if he isn’t, there will be another fine lad who won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.’

  ‘You’re kind, Cissy.’

  ‘Now get yourself away before Mrs Hickey explodes all over the kitchen.’

  ‘You are a one, Cissy,’ said Annie, giggling.

  I watched Annie walk away. There was something about the slope of her shoulders that touched something in me, raising a lump in my throat. She had no one of her own to love her and tell her that they were proud of her. I had my worries alright, but at least I knew I was loved.

  People had been coming and going all week. The two tall Christmas trees had been placed in the hall and the drawing room and hung with glass baubles and tinsel that glittered under the crystal chandeliers. Holly and winter foliage was twined around the staircase and draped over the fireplace and the pictures. The whole house was filled with the scent of pine and Christmas and outdoor things.

  Frazzled-looking dressmakers ran up and down the wide staircase, followed by their assistants, struggling under the weight of large bales of material.

  One morning, me and Bridie were supposed to be cleaning Miss Caroline’s room. This was a task I never enjoyed, on account of the fact that she was dreadfully untidy and didn’t take care of anything, but if something ended up broken or damaged it was always us that got the blame. That morning was different. The dressmaker had brought a selection of materials for Miss Caroline’s approval. They were lovely, draped across the bed like a beautiful rainbow. The cornflower-blue satin reflected the light like water. Touching the blue was a rich plum velvet and the third, my favourite, yellow silk, embroidered with tiny green daisies that reminded me of soft April sunlight. As I knelt down to sweep the dust from the floor into the dustpan, the hem of the satin dress touched my cheek, and the smell of it was lovely, new and fresh. I gave a little sigh.

  Bridie came to stand beside me. She gazed down at the bed, at the textures and colours of the fabrics. They were so different to anything she or I ever wore.

  ‘You be careful with that bucket of water,’ I told her, ‘or we really will be in trouble.’

  ‘Oh, but they’re lovely. Wouldn't you love to touch them, Cissy?’ said Bridie.

  I didn’t have to touch them to know how they would feel. How the silk would slide over my skin, how it would shimmer as I walked, how soft the velvet would be around my shoulders. How I wished just for a moment to be a proper lady dressed in silks and satins, waltzing around the floor under crystal chandeliers.

  ‘Didn’t you hear me?’ said Bridie. ‘I said, wouldn’t you love to touch them?’

  ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’

  Bridie shook her head. ‘It’s where you were that worries me.’

  As we stood gazing at the blues, purples and yellows spread over the bed, the door opened and Miss Caroline walked in. The pair of us couldn’t move; it was as if we were nailed to the floor. We just stood waiting for the wrath of Miss Baggy Knickers to come thundering down on our heads. Instead, she smiled at us. I didn’t know what was worse, her yelling at us or smiling at us. At least when she was yelling we knew what to expect.

  She was looking directly at me as she ran her hand over a piece of pale pink taffeta. ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ she said.

  I nodded.

  ‘What would you choose if you were me, Cissy?’

  I looked at Bridie, who nodded her head as if to say, for heaven’s sake pick something, anything, but I didn’t do that. Instead, I looked Miss Caroline up and down. I looked at her beautiful blue eyes and heart-shaped face, her fair hair that tumbled around her shoulders and her pale skin and then I pointed to a piece of material that looked like liquid gold.

  ‘I’d choose that one for you,’ I said.

  ‘Good choice, Cissy,’ she said, fingering the beautiful piece of fabric. ‘And for yourself? What would you choose for yourself?’

  Jesus, she’d be asking me to pick something out for Mrs Hickey next! I wasn’t sure whether this was her idea of fun. Well, I wasn’t going to play into her hands.

  I was just about to speak up when Peter tapped on the door and walked into the room.

  ‘You needed my
help to pick out some frippery, sister dear,’ he said.

  ‘You’re too late, Peter. Cissy has already chosen for me and was just about to choose something for herself.’

  ‘What are you up to, Caro?’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ she said innocently. ‘But now that you are here perhaps you could choose something.’ She looked at Bridie as if she had only just noticed that she was there. ‘You can go!’ she snapped.

  ‘But we haven’t cleaned the room yet,’ stuttered Bridie.

  Caroline glared at her. ‘I said, leave us.’

  I looked at Bridie’s retreating back in panic and wondered if I dared just walk out after her.

  ‘Come on, Peter, what would you choose for her?’

  Peter cast his eyes over the lengths of materials. ‘The blue,’ he said. ‘To match her eyes,’ he added, smiling at me.

  It occurred to me then that we were both playing into her hands and this was just what she wanted.

  She didn’t speak for a moment and then she said, ‘Yes, I can see her in that. She’d pass for a lady as long as she didn’t open her mouth. What do you think of my brother’s choice, Cissy?’

  I didn’t answer her, I just stared at the floor.

  ‘Oh, come on, girl! Surely you would love to be dressed in such finery? Isn’t it what you dream about in your little bed at night? Gliding around the floor in my brother’s arms? You’d be the belle of the ball, wouldn’t she, Peter?’

  ‘Shut up, Caro.’

  ‘Oh, forgive me but isn’t that where your tastes run these days, little brother?’

  ‘I said shut up. Cissy, go about your business.’

  I ran out of the room with her laughter echoing in my ears but instead of going into the kitchen, I sat on the stairs. She knew, she knew about me and Peter – and Miss Caroline Bretton was a dangerous person to hold such knowledge.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It was three days to Christmas and on my day off, Colm met me at the end of the drive as he’d done ever since I’d started working at the Hall. Lately, I’d managed to avoid him, but I knew I had to face him now.

  ‘Hello, stranger,’ he said, as I climbed up onto the cart.