A Fragile Design (13 page)
‘‘Seems that sometimes we hurt ourselves even more than the outsiders do,’’ Liam noted.
‘‘That’s true. Come on now and let me show you what I’ve got in mind for this stonework. I’d be pleased if you could do some carving for us, but we’ll have to see what that will cost. I fear your talent is beyond our purse.’’
Liam smiled. ‘‘We’ll see. I’m sure we can work somethin’ out. My dear old mother back in Ireland would never forgive me if I rejected work for the church.’’
The two men talked for several hours, well into the evening. Liam’s excitement over the stone designs in the new church had surpassed the gnawing of his stomach, but now it would not be silenced. ‘‘It’s getting late, Hugh. I’ve not found a place to live, nor have I eaten since I departed from Boston early today.’’
Hugh nodded. ‘‘I’ve kept you much too long. Come along with me. You can spend the night at my house, and tomorrow morning we’ll find a sleeping space for you to rent.’’
Cummiskey’s home far surpassed anything else in the Acre, yet it was little more than a hovel. The meal, however, was another matter. Not only was Hugh’s wife cheerful, but she could cook a meal that would give his own mother strong competition. Both the meal and clean bed provided a welcome sanctuary for which Liam was thankful.
Early the next morning, Liam’s safe haven disappeared like a mist. The pealing of the tower bell startled him awake hours before any of the roosters wandering the Acre had been given an opportunity to announce dawn’s arrival.
‘‘I’ll take you to meet Noreen Gallagher,’’ Hugh said as they finished their five o’clock breakfast. ‘‘My wife tells me Noreen may have a sleeping space for rent.’’
Liam glanced about the candlelit room. ‘‘Will she be awake at this time of the day?’’
Hugh’s laughter filled the small room. ‘‘She’ll be up. The bells that wakened you this morning do the same for all the other residents of this town. It’s not just those working inside the mills whose lives are governed by the sound of the bells. Noreen’s no exception. The people living with her either work for the Corporation or are looking to get hired. Either way, she’ll have them up and out of her house as soon as humanly possible.’’
Liam wasn’t certain that calling upon someone at this time of day was entirely suitable, but he placed his reliance in Hugh. After profusely thanking Mrs. Cummiskey for her kindness, he gathered up his belongings and followed Hugh out the door and into the muddy street that fronted the hovel. They followed the crooked road until it became no more than a path winding its way among the maze of shacks. Hugh stopped short and pounded on the door of one of the shanties. A wiry woman with matted reddish-brown hair cracked open the dilapidated piece of wood that served as a front door She blinked against the darkness, obviously unable to make out the faces of her visitors.
‘‘It’s Hugh Cummiskey, Noreen. I’ve brought you a new tenant.’’
The woman stepped aside, permitting them entry. ‘‘Mr. Cummiskey! Come in, come in.’’
She bent from the waist while gesturing her arm in a sweeping motion that crossed her body, obviously pretending royalty had arrived on her doorstep. Liam smiled. Perhaps she wasn’t pretending. Conceivably Mr. Cummiskey was viewed as royalty among the residents of the Paddy camp.
The smell of fetid bodies mingled with the odor of a mangy dog, two chickens, and an indistinguishable scent that curled upward from an iron pot hanging over the fire. The stench nearly caused Liam to retch. Filthy pallets lined the floor where the dirty bodies had lain only a short time earlier. The group now sat huddled near the fire, spooning the foul-smelling concoction that bubbled over the fire into makeshift bowls.
‘‘Mr. Donohue’s in need of a sleeping space, and my wife said you had one available. That true?’’ Hugh inquired.
The woman narrowed her eyes into thin slits and looked Liam up and down. She appeared to evaluate his every feature. ‘‘Have ya money to pay?’’ she asked, her gaze darting toward his bags.
Liam nodded. ‘‘Could I talk to you alone for a moment, Mr. Cummiskey?’’ Liam inquired.
Noreen gave Liam a disgruntled look but moved to the fire when Hugh waved her away. ‘‘Is there a problem, Liam?’’
He didn’t want to appear ungrateful—or offensive. He hesitated a moment and then cleared his throat. ‘‘Might there be another place, uh, a hotel, or . . .’’
Cummiskey shook his head. ‘‘You’ve the luck of the Irish with you to find this,’’ he replied. ‘‘As for a hotel—we’ve no such luxury in the Acre, and ya’d not be welcome at the Wareham. Yanks only, ya know.’’ His brogue seemed a bit more pronounced.
‘‘I see. Well, then, I suppose I’ll stay here, but if you or your missus should ’ear of anything better, would ya keep me in mind?’’
Hugh nodded his head. ‘‘That I’ll do, my boy, that I’ll do,’’ he said before waving Noreen back to where they stood.
‘‘I’ll vouch for Mr. Donohue. He’ll be working with me over at the church, so you’ve no need to worry about being paid regular. See that he gets a decent place to sleep—and you might try cooking something of substance for your tenants,’’ he suggested with a glance toward the fireplace. ‘‘I’m sure you could find yourself a few potatoes to toss in with that water you boil every day.’’
Noreen dug the toe of her shoe into the dirt floor as a splash of red tinged her cheeks. Liam wasn’t sure if the woman’s embarrassment was due to the poor treatment of her tenants or the fact that Hugh Cummiskey had noted her neglect. Probably the latter, he surmised.
‘‘We’re heading off to work at the church, but Mr. Donohue will be back this evening. I trust he’ll find enough food to fill his belly, Noreen.’’
‘‘If ’e pays me before you leave, ’e will,’’ Noreen countered.
The woman watched closely as Liam reached into his satchel and then handed her two dollars, which, from the gleam in her eyes, was more than she’d received in many a day.
‘‘Where’d ya work before comin’ to this place?’’ she asked while rubbing the coins in her hand.
‘‘Boston.’’
Hugh gave Liam a reassuring pat on the back. ‘‘Mr. Donohue’s a stonemason—very talented. God’s blessed us yet again by sending him to work for us.’’
The woman kept her gaze fixed on Liam’s satchel. ‘‘Indeed, a blessin’,’’ she agreed, reaching out toward the shoulder strap of Liam’s bag. ‘‘Ya can leave yar belongings here. I’ll see to them while ya’re at work.’’
Liam turned, stepping out of her grasp. ‘‘No, I’ll keep my belongings with me,’’ he replied before joining Hugh outside the shanty.
Hugh gave him a hearty laugh as they walked back down the muddy path. ‘‘I know Noreen’s place isn’t particularly appealing, but I doubt you’ll spend much time there. Most of the single men spend their evenings at the pub.’’
Liam’s thoughts wandered back to the boardinghouse where he’d roomed in the Irish part of Boston. It hadn’t been palatial by any means, but the house had been neat and clean, and the food had been wholesome and plentiful. Liam wasn’t one to spend his time sitting in pubs, but there was no doubt he would soon begin. A reasonable alternative to Noreen’s shack would be a necessity.
‘‘Once you’ve begun your work at the church, I’ll head off for the canal. We’re running a few days behind, and I need to push the blokes a bit,’’ Hugh said as they moved toward the church.
‘‘Perhaps you need to hire some extra help,’’ Liam suggested.
Hugh gave a growling snort and pushed back his flat woolen cap. A mop of black curly hair fell across his forehead. ‘‘The Yanks are already up in arms about the number of Irish living and working in Lowell. There are about five hundred of us now. The Yanks want us to perform their labor and disappear like a vapor until we’re needed for some other grueling manual labor. Instead, they must face the fact that the Irish are here to stay. They don’t like that idea, and they surely want no more of us coming here.’’
‘‘So that’s why ya instructed me to say me work was temporary?’’
‘‘Exactly,’’ Hugh replied. ‘‘But as I told you, I’m certain I can keep you busy should you decide you want to remain in Lowell. Personally, I’m anxious to have skilled artisans stay among us.’’
‘‘Ya don’t think ya’d be happier somewhere else? A place where ya’d feel more welcome?’’ Liam inquired.
‘‘Hah! And where would that be, Liam? Surely you don’t think there’s a city out there anxious to see the Irish arrive? Lowell’s not a bad place for the Irish—better than most. I’ve made my place here and you can, too, if you like. Keep yourself clean, work hard, stay away from the liquor, and try to stay out of the Yanks’ way.’’
Liam felt an overwhelming sadness envelop him. ‘‘What I’d be likin’ is for all of us to ’ave the same advantages as the Yanks born in this country without anyone carin’ for whether we were born in Ireland—or any other country, for that matter. I’d like a bit of equality for all of us.’’
‘‘Well, I doubt you’ll find that here or anywhere else, my friend. We’re a step above the slaves down South, but the Yanks will make sure we don’t move much higher. It seems as if we get one matter of dissension solved between us and another arises.’’
‘‘Like what?’’ Liam inquired.
‘‘As I told you earlier, the Yanks feel we’re taking jobs away from them, even though a few years ago they wouldn’t consider dirtying their hands with this kind of work. When there’s a fire anywhere but the Acre, the fire company shows up to fight the blaze. But they don’t come here—they’d prefer the whole Acre burn to the ground. I suppose the most recent agitation with the Yanks is due to the Irish girls that have come up missing. No one seems to care. We can’t even get the police to talk to the families. I tried—even went and talked to the police myself—but they don’t appear to care,’’ Hugh explained.
Liam stopped outside the church and turned toward Hugh. ‘‘How long have these girls been missin’? Would they be knowin’ each other? Were they all separate incidents?’’
‘‘Do you double as a policeman?’’ Hugh inquired with a chuckle.
‘‘No, but this is a frightenin’ matter.’’
‘‘That it is. All the girls have been of marrying age, but none involved with a fellow; all of them were pretty. The girls knew each other—we all know each other in the Acre. Each one disappeared at a different time and from a different place,’’ Hugh explained. ‘‘I fear the Yanks’ lack of concern will soon cause some of our men to retaliate against them.’’
Liam shook his head. ‘‘Not against their womenfolk?’’
‘‘Let’s hope not. I’ve been talkin’ my heart out to them. Violence returned for violence serves none of us well,’’ Hugh replied.
Bella gathered with twelve other girls in the parlor of Miss Addie’s boardinghouse, a stack of books on her lap. She gave the group a tentative smile, uncertain whether the others shared her passion for this idea.
‘‘How long will we be?’’ Jennie asked. ‘‘Lucy and I are going to Mr. Whidden’s store; a new shipment of lace arrived this morning,’’ she added, already wiggling in her seat.
‘‘I suppose it depends on how interested we are in expanding our minds,’’ Bella replied more curtly than she’d intended.
Jennie appeared offended. ‘‘You needn’t attempt to make me feel guilty because I want to purchase a piece of lace, Bella.’’
‘‘I’m sorry, Jennie. You and Lucy, and any of the rest of you,’’ she said as she looked about the room, ‘‘may leave whenever you choose. The purpose of this gathering was to determine if there’s enough interest for us to form a literary circle. I have a few books Miss Addie has donated for our use until we can perhaps purchase some others.’’
Lucy straightened in her chair while furrowing her brow. ‘‘I thought you convinced Taylor Manning we should be admitted to the Mechanics Association library. I’d rather use their books.’’
‘‘I’m not sure Mr. Manning was able to secure agreement from the membership. And even if he does, it would be laudable if we had some books and offered to donate them to their library, don’t you think?’’ Bella asked.
‘‘Perhaps,’’ Lucy replied with little conviction in her voice.
‘‘I don’t have money to spend on books. My family needs every cent I can send,’’ Hannah dolefully responded.
Bella smiled at the girl. ‘‘I realize that for you and several others who must send all of your money home, purchasing books is out of the question. But others of us, the ones who have additional funds to purchase a piece of jewelry or lace, might want to think about using the money for a book instead.’’
Hannah raised her hand, and Bella nodded toward her. ‘‘If we don’t help purchase books, will we still be permitted to read them and join in with your group?’’
‘‘That would certainly be my desire, Hannah. There are many good things we could accomplish as a group—not just for ourselves but for others, as well.’’
Jennie gave her an apprehensive look. ‘‘Like what?’’
‘‘Tutoring lessons for the girls who have difficulty reading, and perhaps classes or topical discussions of foreign languages, literature, or current events. I even hoped we might secure enough funds to host our own speakers from time to time—a poet, perhaps. If we can elicit enough interest, we could charge an admission fee to help defray costs of the speaker, and if we could host the event at St. Anne’s or one of the other churches, it might be successful,’’ Bella enthusiastically offered. ‘‘We could start out with a lending library among the girls in all of the mills, not just the Appleton.’’
‘‘I think it’s a wonderful idea,’’ Ruth agreed.
Addie pulled off her apron as she entered the room. ‘‘Yes, it is. And you girls should use every opportunity available to expand your education. After all, an education is something no one can ever take away from you.’’
Bella smiled as a murmur of excitement began filling the parlor. ‘‘Perhaps our first step would be to schedule a meeting inviting all of the girls.’’
Miss Addie nodded. ‘‘If you girls make invitations, I’ll deliver them to each of the boardinghouses and ask the keepers to post them for their girls.’’
‘‘That would be wonderful,’’ Bella replied. ‘‘We could work on the invitations tomorrow evening. Oh, but where can we meet? Do you think St. Anne’s would give us permission to meet there?’’ she asked, turning toward Addie.