The Little Orphan Girl

by Sandy Taylor

  I was trembling all over. ‘I’m not sure this is such a good idea, Mary.’

  ‘Can you think of a better one?’ she said.

  I shook my head. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Well, there you go.’

  ‘Now what can I do for you?’ asked Father Kelly, coming back into the room.

  I stared at the floor.

  ‘Am I that frightening, Cissy?’

  ‘No, Father,’ I said.

  ‘Then take your time.’

  ‘If I tell you, Father, you won’t tell anyone else?’

  ‘Whatever you tell me will remain within these walls.’

  ‘I’m…’ I started.

  ‘Go on, child.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Would it be easier if you closed your eyes and pretended that you were in the confessional box?’

  I nodded and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, it is two weeks since my last confession. I’m, I’m…’ I still couldn’t say the words.

  ‘She’s having a baby, Father,’ said Mary.

  Father Kelly didn’t say anything right away but he looked sad and I felt so ashamed.

  ‘Will the father stand by you, Cissy?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘I see. Have you thought about what you want to do?’

  ‘I’m at me wits’ end, Father, that’s why I’ve come to you. I need help.’

  ‘Then I will do all I can. I take it you haven’t told your mother?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I thought not.’

  ‘No one must know, I have to get away.’

  ‘Do you want to keep this child?’

  ‘How can I keep it, Father? I have no money.’

  ‘So you would be willing to give this child up for adoption?’

  ‘I have to.’

  ‘Have you really thought this through, Cissy? Your mother is a good woman, I can’t see her turning you out.’

  ‘I made a promise to her that I would be a good girl and I’ve broken that promise. I have to somehow find a way to deal with this myself.’

  ‘Can you help her, Father?’ said Mary.

  He nodded. ‘I have a friend in London, Father Sullivan. He is affiliated to a mother and baby home run by the Sisters of Mercy. He has helped another poor girl of this parish. I will write to him.’

  ‘Thank you, Father.’

  ‘In the meantime, Cissy, I want you to think very carefully. You need to be sure that this is what you want to do.’

  ‘It is, Father.’

  ‘Then we’ll leave it in the hands of God and Father Sullivan and I will let you know as soon as I hear back from him.’

  ‘Will you grant me forgiveness, Father?’

  He gestured for me to kneel down in front of him and then he placed his hand on my head. ‘I forgive you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen.’

  ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ said Mary, as we walked down the lane towards the town. ‘And isn’t it great that he’s able to help?’

  ‘London, though,’ I said. ‘I’ve never been further than Ballybun in my whole life. Even Mammy’s been to Cork city, for God’s sake! I’ll be like a country bumpkin.’

  ‘Not at all! You’re grand-looking and you’ll fit in a treat. You’ll be coming home with an English accent.’

  ‘It’s alright for you, it’s not you that’s going.’

  ‘I wish I was, I’d do anything to get out of this place.’

  ‘How much have you saved for your passage to America?’

  ‘I’d say another year and I’ll be off.’

  ‘Oh, Mary, I’ll miss you when you go, you’re my closest friend.’

  ‘And you’re mine but it looks as if it’s you that’s going to be leaving me.’

  ‘Except that the difference is, you want to go to America; I don’t want to go to London.’

  ‘We’ll both be fine, Cissy.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘I wonder who the girl is?’

  ‘What girl?’

  ‘The one Father Kelly was talking about. He said she was from this parish. It’s bound to be someone we know, there’s not many people we don’t know in Ballybun. She must be a bit on the racy side to have got herself in trouble.’

  I stopped and stared at Mary. ‘Are you saying that I’m racy, Mary Butler?’

  ‘Oh God, Cissy, no! I don’t think you’re racy at all, you were just caught up in the moment, sure it wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘Whose fault was it then?’

  ‘The Honourable’s, he should have known better.’

  ‘Oh, Mary,’ I said, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  ‘It could be Alana Walsh, except I think she’s more blowsy than racy.’

  ‘I thought they meant the same.’

  ‘Blowsy means flirty but racy… well, you can imagine what racy means. Anyway, I don’t remember Alana Walsh going away for nine months. Wouldn’t you just love to know, though? You could ask her what the place was like.’

  ‘It looks like I’ll be finding out for meself if Father Sullivan agrees to help me.’

  ‘Oh, he’ll agree alright, I can feel it in me waters. Did Father Kelly give you a penance to do after hearing your confession?’

  ‘He didn’t.’

  ‘I expect he thought you had enough on your plate without burdening you with ten Hail Marys and a Glory Be.’

  I looked at my friend. She always managed to make me feel better, whether it was taking me to see a pile of puppies or standing beside me when I needed her most.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, linking her arm through mine. ‘Let’s go to Minnie’s, all that talk of confessions has given me a desperate appetite.’

  It was two long weeks before Father Kelly received a reply to his letter.

  ‘He is willing to help you, Cissy,’ he said.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ said Mary, who had again come with me. ‘Sorry for that, Father, I didn’t mean to take the Lord’s name in vain, it was a slip of the tongue.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll forgive you this once, Mary.’

  ‘How will I pay for the boat, Father?’ I said.

  ‘I could let you have some of my America money,’ said Mary.

  ‘I couldn’t take that money from you, it’s taken you years to save it up.’

  ‘That was a very kind offer, Mary,’ said Father Kelly, ‘but you won’t need to. We have a small fund put away for desperate cases and I’d say this qualifies as one.’

  ‘Oh, she’s desperate alright, Father,’ said Mary.

  ‘What will I tell the mammy?’

  ‘Ah, now that’s a tricky one, Cissy. Being a Man of the Cloth and a good Catholic, I can’t be telling you to lie to your mother.’

  ‘Of course not, Father.’

  ‘I can only tell you what I’d do. Now, I’d say that I’d been offered a grand job in London for a year and it’s a great opportunity for me and I’d love to go. This is hypothetical, you understand, but that is what I would do if I found myself in the same situation.’

  ‘Which is highly unlikely, Father,’ said Mary, grinning.

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Thank you for everything,’ I said. ‘I’ll never forget what you have done for me.’

  ‘I’ll keep you in my thoughts and in my prayers, child. As soon as your mother knows, I will arrange your passage to England and may God go with you.’

  Part II

  1911

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I waved to Colm as the boat moved slowly away from the quayside. My heart was breaking as he became smaller and smaller. I saw other people crying as they drifted away from the railings, but I stayed where I was, until the green hills of my homeland became a mere strip of land in the distance.

  It had only been this morning and yet it seemed like years ago that I had stood in the cottage with my case at my feet, saying goodbye to Mammy. I wandered if she had guessed t
he real reason for my sudden departure. Nothing much got past my mammy. She may not have had much of an education but she was no fool. The shape of my body was changing although I’d done my best to hide it from her. Had she guessed?

  ‘I’ll miss you, child,’ she’d said, taking me into her arms.

  ‘I’ll miss you too, Mammy, but I’ll be back before you know it and I’ll be sure to write.’

  She held me away from her and stared into my eyes as if memorising my face. ‘Never forget who you are,’ she’d said. ‘You are Cissy Ryan, beloved daughter of Moira Ryan and granddaughter of Malachi Ryan, and you are loved.’

  ‘I won’t forget, Mammy, I’ll never forget.’

  ‘Then be gone with you before I make a desperate fool of meself.’

  I knelt down and buried my face in Buddy’s soft fur. ‘Take care of the mammy until I come home.’

  He licked away my tears and put his paw on my knee, then walked across to Mammy and sat by her feet as if he’d understood every word I’d said.

  Colm hadn’t wanted me to go; he couldn’t understand why I was leaving him. I wanted so much to tell him the truth, but I couldn’t bear to see the look on his face when I told him that I was carrying someone else’s child.

  ‘What if you don’t like it over there in England?’

  ‘Then I’ll come home.’

  ‘You might forget me, Cissy.’

  ‘I’ll never forget you, Colm, that’s one thing I’m sure of. I’ll be back in a year and then we’ll be together forever, I promise. But I need to do this, for me.’

  ‘I have something for you,’ he’d said, handing me a little bag.

  I went to open it, but he stopped me. ‘Open it on the boat.’

  I put it in my pocket. ‘Thank you,’ I’d said.

  The wind was blowing all over my face as I stood looking out over the water. The boat groaned and creaked as it made its way through the grey choppy sea. It would be hours before I got to see land again; I was told the boat would sail to Wales.

  I put my hands in my pockets for warmth and found Colm’s gift. Inside the bag was a Saint Christopher medal on a silver chain and a note. ‘Dear Cissy,’ it read. ‘As you know, Saint Christopher is the patron saint of travellers and, as I can’t be with you meself, I’m relying on this feller to keep you safe. Wear it and think of me as I will be always thinking of you. Colm x’

  I felt my eyes filling with tears. I wanted to run to the captain and demand he turn the boat around and take me home. Maybe Colm would forgive me, maybe the mammy wouldn’t be ashamed, maybe, maybe, maybe…

  I couldn’t face Mrs Bretton so I wrote her a letter saying that I wouldn’t be working for her any more and asked Mrs Hickey to give it to her. It hadn’t been so easy saying goodbye to Annie.

  ‘Where are you going, Cissy?’ she’d said.

  ‘To England.’

  ‘But why?’

  Her eyes were filling with tears so I took her into my arms. ‘It’s just something I have to do.’

  ‘I’ll miss you, Cissy, you’re the only friend I have.’

  ‘I’ll still be your friend, Annie, and I won’t be gone forever,’ I’d said.

  ‘You’ll freeze to death out here,’ said a voice, interrupting my thoughts.

  I looked up at the young sailor. ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘Sad to be leaving Ireland?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I was sad meself the first time I left and between that and the sickness I was all for running home to me mammy.’

  I smiled at him; he looked no more than a young boy. He was probably my age, maybe even older, but I didn’t feel young any more. I was only sixteen but I wondered if I would ever feel young again. ‘But it got better?’ I said.

  ‘Once I got me sea legs it did and sure, now I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.’

  ‘Where is your home?’

  ‘Kerry, and there’s no finer place in all of Ireland.’

  ‘I’ve never been there.’

  ‘Oh, you’d love it, the hills and the lakes, sure I could go on forever. I’ll settle back there one day, find meself a sweet Irish girl and never leave its shores again.’

  ‘I’m going away for a year but right now it seems like a lifetime.’

  ‘It’ll soon go by. What part are you going to?’

  ‘London.’

  ‘You’ll love it. I have a brother in London, working on the building sites. He says it’s a grand place altogether, although the streets aren’t paved with gold as he was told they were.’

  ‘I hope so,’ I said, shivering.

  ‘Come on, let’s get you inside in the warm.’

  I followed him through a door. ‘Do you want to go into the lounge or do you want a bit of a sleep?’

  I didn’t want to face people. ‘I think I’d like to lie down for a bit.’

  ‘Do you know where your berth is?’

  I showed him my ticket.

  ‘Take those stairs and you’ll find it. Will I help you down with your case?’

  ‘No, thanks, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Grand so, I might see you later.’

  I smiled at him. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Eddie, and yours?’

  ‘Cissy.’

  ‘Right then, Cissy, have a good rest and before you know it, we’ll be there.’

  The stairs were narrow, and it was difficult to get down them with my case banging against the wall. I found the right door and went inside. The room was full of bunks, one on top of the other. I’d thought I would have a little cabin all to myself but already there were a couple of girls laying down. I didn’t know which bed to choose.

  ‘Take whichever one doesn’t have a case on it,’ said a young girl with curly red hair.

  ‘Jesus, I feel sick again!’ said her friend.

  ‘She has a terrible weak stomach,’ said the red-headed girl. ‘She once saw a calf being born and she was sick for a week. I’m Laura, by the way, and me friend here is Oona.’

  ‘I’m Cissy.’

  ‘From Cork?’

  I nodded. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘The accent’s a dead giveaway.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘It’s very sing-songy.’

  ‘Is that bad?’

  ‘Not at all, it’s lovely. Are you going to London?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So are we, unless she passes away during the journey.’

  ‘Laura Hurley! I’ll kill you with me bare hands once this feckin’ ship stops rolling around.’

  ‘I’d say that will be in about seven hours.’

  Oona groaned. ‘I want me mammy.’

  ‘You were all for nailing her to the front door this morning.’

  ‘I wasn’t sick this morning.’

  I chose a bunk and lay down. Mammy had told me I’d probably feel terrible ill, but I didn’t feel ill at all. In fact, I loved the feel of the ship rolling beneath me. I placed my hands on my tummy and slept.

  I was woken by the sound of someone retching. The room felt hot and stuffy and I had a desperate thirst on me. I got off the bunk and went out into the corridor. The boat was lurching from side to side and I had to grab onto the rails as I staggered along. I went back up the stairs and was just about to go into the lounge when the young sailor I had met earlier stopped me.

  ‘I shouldn’t go in there, Cissy,’ he said. ‘It’s full of drunken Irishmen, drowning their sorrows in glasses of Guinness and singing at the tops of their voices. It’s no place for a young lady like yourself. What are you after?’

  ‘A glass of water.’

  ‘I’ll get it for you. Would you prefer a mineral?’

  ‘Just water, please.’

  ‘Sit there and I’ll be right back.’

  Up on deck it was chilly. There was a cold wind blowing off the sea. I pulled my shawl closer around me and waited for Eddie to return. Everything was blackness as far as the eye could see. I had no idea if we were anywhere near l
and. It felt as if I was the only person in the world, I had never felt more alone. I closed my eyes and thought of Paradise Alley and the people I loved. Right now, Mammy might be sitting by the fire on the new couch. Perhaps Mr Collins would be beside her. Would she be thinking of me? Would Colm be thinking of me, or was I already forgotten?

  ‘Let’s move to a more sheltered spot,’ said the boy, coming back with a glass of water.

  We moved to a bench that was out of the wind and sat down.

  ‘Are you feeling sick?’ he said.

  ‘Not a bit.’

  ‘Your father must be a sailor.’

  ‘He was,’ I said, ‘but I never knew him.’

  ‘You might not have known him, but he’s given you a fine pair of sea legs.’

  The boy had a cheeky grin and a head of red hair. He was nice, and I was grateful for the company. I sipped my water and felt a bit better. Mammy and Colm loved me, I wouldn’t be forgotten so quickly.

  ‘Look,’ said the boy.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The lights of Wales.’

  I stared into the darkness. ‘I can’t see anything.’

  He pointed across the water. ‘Over there, can’t you see those lights twinkling away in the distance?’

  I stared into the blackness. ‘Now I see. Are we nearly there?’

  ‘It won’t be long. Are you ready for your grand adventure, Cissy?’

  Is that what he thought? That I was going on some grand adventure? I nodded. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ I said.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  It was way past midnight when the train pulled into Paddington station. I wished it had been summer, at least I would have seen what England looked like. As it was, I had only seen my own reflection staring back at me through the window.

  The journey from Ireland had been long and tiring, and I felt dirty and shabby. I was wearing the only coat I owned. I’d been fourteen when I’d first been given it, but I was sixteen now and I’d grown. The sleeves were too short; my thin boney wrists stuck out the ends. It hadn’t mattered in Ireland, but suddenly it did. I must have looked just how I felt: a poor Irish girl in trouble.

  I knew I was being met by two nuns, at least they would be easy to recognise in their black robes. A kind man on the train had shared his sandwiches with me and I was grateful for them as I was desperate hungry.