Day 13
The night I told you about last time was one of the scariest I ever knew, Alice, as far as I could see, my daddy was dying. All I could think of on the road in to town was what would become of Jimmy and me.
Arklow fever hospital was a wooden building behind the doctor's house on the edge of town and someone told me later it was designed to be burned if a serious outbreak occurred. Mr Horkan, the man whose byre we'd been sleeping in, was a cousin of one the nurses and he brought us there on the back of his cart, where he'd lain Daddy on some old feed sacks with Jimmy and me beside him. Mrs Horkan wrapped her husband's old mackintosh round us to keep out the rain but the worst of the storm had blown through and the stars were twinkling where the clouds had broken. There were still flashes of lightning from time to time, away in the distance, and the thunder wasn't anywhere near as fierce by the time we stopped at the gates.
Mr Horkan rapped on the door for the doctor, telling him he'd a sick man with him though wasn't prepared to go in to the hospital himself for fear of catching something. The doctor went back inside and a few minutes later two men arrived with a stretcher.
No-one seemed to bother about us so we stood by the gates when Mr Horkan left, trying to keep warm. By the time it was light we were shaking so much with the hunger and the cold that a passing nurse took us through to the kitchen and gave us tea and bits of stale crust. She said she'd try to find out about Daddy and left us by the fire for a few minutes.
As he thawed and his belly filled Jimmy stopped snivelling and even managed a grin. I looked at him and wondered what people would think of the two of us. Both unwashed, in clothes that had seen better days, and, without a doubt, smelly. Underneath it all, Jimmy had the brightest eyes and an innocent way about him. He'd a habit, which Daddy had tried to get him to stop, of pulling on his ear whenever he was nervous or happy, and was tugging away while he sat warming himself.
When the nurse came back, she said Daddy would be in the hospital for a few days and we must go home. She said she was just finishing her shift and asked where we lived so she could walk with us. I lied and said we were staying with my daddy's sister who'd just moved down from Dublin. The three of us walked in silence along the river until we crossed the bridge. I pointed down the quay.
'It's down there. We'll be fine now. Thanks.'
I grabbed Jimmy and we ran, turning once to wave goodbye, then dashed in to the first side street. Round the corner I dragged my brother hard against a wall and counted to ten. Then counted again before popping my head round to make sure the nurse had moved on.
We went first to Uncle Mick's shop, hoping he'd take care of us, but it was Sunday and the doors were locked, and though I'd walked it many times I didn't know the way to his house.
A nicely dressed woman on her way to church asked me if we were all right and I showed her the paper that Daddy had made me keep in my dress pocket.
'Do you know where this is, lady? We need to get there.'
She explained which road we needed to take out of the town and said we must knock at houses along the way to make sure we were still heading in the right direction. One of the ladies where we called was very nice and gave us something to eat, though others chased us from the doorstep with nothing. It took us all day, then Jimmy could walk no more. We slept under the trees by the river that first night, huddled together and shivering.
Sometimes Billy says I'm a hard woman. He wouldn't be so surprised if he knew everything I've been through.
By the middle of the second morning we arrived at the house of a neighbour of Auntie Bridget, who looked the two scruffy urchins up and down then took us by the hand and led us past the last couple of fields. My aunt was a picture of embarrassment when we arrived and I think she only took us in just keep face with the neighbour. She scrubbed us and fed us, washed our clothes and made us sit wrapped in towels then asked what had happened to her brother. When I told her, Auntie Bridget stayed quiet for a good while before turning to me.
'You can't stay Maria. I've not the cash to keep two children, even though I love you both. I'll scrounge some decent clothes from a neighbour and you can stay for three nights but then you must go back to wait for your daddy.'
When I look back, I think how cruel it might seem but they were different times. My aunt was so hard up she could barely provide for herself, let alone put food in two more mouths, however small. Perhaps she was hoping Uncle Mick would to take us in if he knew Daddy was ill.
So that's how it was. Jimmy and I stayed until the Thursday morning after breakfast when Tommy Lynch turned up to transport us back to Arklow. Our aunt gave us a bag of scone bread, jam and butter, pressed a few pennies into my hand, kissed and hugged us both, then went inside and closed the door without seeing us set off.
Mr Lynch dropped us at the hospital gates, where I rang the bell and a nurse answered. She checked and told me Daddy would need to stay in a while longer, perhaps a month or more so we went to look for Uncle Mick at the shop again.
'Gone. Left last week. Upped sticks and took the family to America.' Mr Jenkins clearly wasn't pleased. 'I always had him down as a reliable sort of a man and then he does this. Said he thought he'd be able to better himself over there.'
The shopkeeper was able to give me directions to my uncle's house so I took Jimmy's hand and walked out, turned left along the road and towards the river. As we got closer I recognised the area and soon found the house. It was locked but it didn't take much to smash a window at the back and climb inside then I stood on a chair to pull back the top bolt on the door to let Jimmy in. Our uncle and aunt must only have been able to take a few things with them because the house was more or less the same as last time we'd been. We wandered from room to room, poking in cupboards, where they'd even left some dried foods, and testing out the furniture and beds. It felt so strange to be there on our own, though we giggled and giggled at the idea we might have somewhere decent to stay for a while. After we tired of our exploring I went outside to gather sticks to light a fire and soon we were warming our toes, Jimmy asleep in one armchair and me in the other.
*
It's a mystery to me how we were never discovered. We made no secret that we were living in the house, lighting the fire every night when we returned home and playing games in the field when we had the strength. Perhaps the neighbours knew we were there and knew who we were so left us to it, not willing to take us in and not wanting to see us sleeping on the streets.
We slept in the big bed, under two old coats left behind until, one day, on our way back from town, I spied some blankets drying on the line outside a big house. I hushed Jimmy and nipped across the yard, pulled two down, then ran as fast as I could to dive out of sight. They were still damp but they dried quickly enough and we slept in luxury after that.
Three months we were there and they were almost the happiest days of my life. We had no money and we had no-one but it was one big adventure. Imagine it. Two children with their own house, free to do what they want and to go where they want. To go to bed when they like and to get up when they like, with no grown-ups ordering them about. For the first few weeks we'd go to the fever hospital to ask about Daddy but the story was always the same. He was very ill and needed to be looked after. The nurses could never say when he'd be coming out and they wouldn't let us see him, said children weren't allowed. So after a while we stopped going.
We'd spend our days begging for pennies, or for scraps from the shops, running for our lives if a policeman appeared in the street. Sometimes we'd wander down to the quay and I'd help unload the fish. I hardly ever got paid for it, though they would give me a mackerel which was damaged so couldn't be sent to the market. Three or four of the shopkeepers were very kind and might throw in a lump of cheese or some eggs and stale bread as long as we didn't pester them too often. I made a point of buying from them when we'd copped some money on the street. Mr O'Leary, the greengrocer, was especially nice and would always let me have a bag of vegetables once a week. He'd tell me how to cook them, or how to make a good soup, and then, once I got the hang of it, we'd eat well for a few days.
On a Wednesday in June, Jimmy and me were sitting on the corner of an alleyway off the main street, stopping passers-by and asking them if they'd a ha'penny to spare. Jimmy was really good at it and could put on a face so sad it would melt the hardest heart. Men were always easier to cadge from than the women, especially if they'd a drink taken, and I'd be good at spotting the likeliest then send Jimmy off to waylay them. On this morning he was in a sour mood and didn't want to ask anyone, so I was telling him he'd get no dinner if he didn't. As a result, neither of us had bothered to keep a look-out and the next thing was that two shiny black size tens appeared, worn by the tallest uniformed bobby I'd ever seen. I made a run for it down the alley but he grabbed Jimmy then made after me. There was nowhere for me to go because it was a dead end and he soon had me cornered. Jimmy was screeching and wriggling and the policeman almost dropped him once before he raised his voice.
'You just stop that, young man.' The windows almost rattled with it. 'And you, young lady, get over here.'
It seemed pointless trying to get away. The feller was so big it would be hard to get past him and anyway, I couldn't leave my brother, even if it was his fault we'd been caught. I told Jimmy to be quiet, that it would be all right, and this brought a huge smile to the policeman's face.
'You look after him, do you? Bit of a scrapper isn't he. What's your name?' 'Maria Ann Byrne. I'm eight I think, and this is Jimmy, my brother.' 'And where would your mammy and daddy be?'
'I've no mammy, she died and Daddy's in the hospital, he's very sick and can't come out.'
'Well, you listen to me Miss Maria Ann Byrne, I've been watching out for you pair for a week or two since one of the shopkeepers told me you were around all the time bothering her customers. We can't have that now, can we? So, I'm going to take you to St Mary's where the nuns will look after you until I'm told what to do with you. Do you understand?'
I bowed my head. 'Yes, constable.'
Then we each held the policeman's hand whilst he walked us down a path which led us to hell.
*
Our spell in St Mary's was the first time Jimmy and I had been separated since he was born. I tried to hang on to his arm, kicking and spitting, but it was no use. One nun just slapped me hard and he was pulled away by another. I didn't know where they went, and I was taken to a room at the back of the building. There were clean sheets on the bed and the air smelled sickly-sweet, something I later came to recognise as carbolic, used for scrubbing away the head-lice.
A nun calling herself Sister Consolata showed me a sink, the soap, a tin bath and a bucket to fill it with.
'Now I'm going to leave you here and you get yourself washed, hair and all mind.' She pointed to a grey woollen smock dress and knickers on a chair. 'Put those on when you're finished and brush your hair a hundred times. If I come back and it's not done properly, or if there's a speck of dirt anywhere, then I'll do it for you myself and you won't like that. Am I clear?'
I knew better than to argue. 'Yes Sister.'
The water was freezing but I shivered myself in to it and by the time I climbed out I was enjoying being clean for a change. I remembered Mammy sitting me on her knee and singing one of her little nursery rhymes "This is the way we brush our hair, brush our hair , brush our hair …' and for the first time since my father went into hospital I sat on the side of the bed and wept, great gulping sobs that I thought might never stop.
I knew if Sister Consolata came back and found me like this I'd be in bad trouble, so I pulled myself together and started the brushing. I hadn't a clue how to count to a hundred and just carried on until every single snag had gone and my hair felt shiny. Then I just sat there, looking around and wondering how long I'd have to wait before they'd bring Jimmy and we'd get something to eat. The walls of the room were painted white and on one wall hung a wooden cross with a very sad looking Jesus. On the windowsill stood a simple statue of Our Lady, dressed in blue and white and wearing a beautiful smile. Mammy had taken me to Mass every Sunday and I'd always stared at a similar, much bigger one high on the altar behind the priest. My mother would squeeze my hand and smile when she saw me looking up. I could feel myself about to burst in to tears again when the door handle rattled and the nun returned. She told me to stand, checked behind my ears and ran her fingers through my long dark hair.
'Very good, Maria. Now doesn't that feel a whole lot better?' She sounded much less stern than when she'd left and even smiled. 'I'll take you down to the kitchen shortly for your tea.'
'Will Jimmy be there?'
She shook her head. 'No he won't. He'll be staying with Mr O'Neill, the caretaker, while he's here and eating with him. You'll see him again in a day or two.'
The meal was the best I'd eaten in a long time and even though it was only leftovers from the nun's table there was a small chop, potatoes mashed with butter and some cabbage. Afterwards I was taken back upstairs by a younger nun who told me say my prayers then climb in to bed. She put out the lamp and closed the door behind her, leaving me beneath the covers thinking that, apart from being away from Jimmy, I could get used to the luxury of this life.
In less than a week I was in a different place, standing next to my brother at the back of a line of other children who were being ushered out in ones and twos to stand in front of three men at a high table.
*
Viscount Ralph Francis FitzTemple, heir to the 6th Earl of Rathnew, was waiting and shifted uneasily in his seat. He felt like he was always waiting for something. Sometimes it was simply for dinner, or for his wife to stop talking, or, like today, for the next tale of depravity, neighbourly spitefulness or just plain badness to come before the Petty Sessions. More generally he was waiting for his father to die, or even for him to just pass on his lands and inheritance so that Ralph could go travelling. The twentieth case of the morning was just as disconcerting as the preceding ten, all of whom he'd committed to the Industrial Schools, but now it was approaching his lunchtime and talk of children starving in the streets was having an unsettling effect.
His fellow magistrates stole glances at each other, perhaps sharing similar thoughts. 'What's the case against this one?' asked FitzTemple.
'Maria Ann Byrne, my lord.' Read the court clerk. 'Found begging and destitute with her younger brother on the streets of Arklow town last Wednesday. She's eight years old, their mother is dead and their father is in the fever hospital, expected to remain there for some time.'
'And what's become of the brother?' 'Up next my lord, up next.'
At this point a second magistrate, James Murray, interjected. 'Where have they both been since last Wednesday?'
Viscount FitzTemple glared at his colleague for prolonging the proceedings, and the clerk, Isaac Foley, scanned his papers to find a quick answer.
'They were lodged with the sisters at St Mary's, sir.'
Murray ignored the discomfort of the bench chairman and pressed on. 'Is there anyone here to speak for the child?'
'A Miss Bridget Byrne, sir. The lady over there.' He pointed to my aunt seated on a stool near the back. 'She's the maiden aunt of the two of them.'
The errant magistrate addressed her. 'Please stand, Miss Byrne. Now why can't the children stay with you?'
'They did, for a while, sir, but I couldn't keep them. I've no money for myself let alone to raise two young ones that aren't even my own. They're good children, sir, but they'd be much better off in that school where you've been sending the others, at least they'd be fed and clothed. More than I could be sure of doing for them.'
The third magistrate, Timothy White, a doctor in the town, consulted his watch and interjected. 'I think we've probably heard enough. I suggest we send the girl up to that place in Dublin. What's it called Mr Foley?'
'St Gregory's, sir.'
'That's it, St Gregory's. We'll send her there and she'll learn how to cook, sew and keep house. And the sisters will give her a good religious education to keep her on the straight and narrow. What do you say, gentlemen?'
His fellows nodded and the viscount passed sentence that Maria Ann Byrne, aged eight years, of no fixed abode, should be committed to an Industrial School until her sixteenth birthday. With the minimum of further discussion, her brother was given the same sentence. It carried a recommendation he remain in a local institution for as long as practical, so his father could visit him if he became well, and felt so inclined.
With this 'bad business' out of the way the three gentlemen adjourned the court and retired to the King's Hotel for a lunch of soup, mutton pie and apple tart, all washed down with the best claret on offer. They were in total agreement that they were deserving of this, given their tribulations of the morning, and the afternoon still to come. Viscount FitzTemple remained blissfully unaware he'd just sentenced the grandchildren of a man who'd saved his father's life, a man without whom he would never have existed.
Only a couple of degrees of separation, but would it have mattered if he had known?