Authors: Marita Conlon-Mckenna
Fields of Home (14 page)
‘I’d never be sick of blackberries, Mammy!’ declared Mary-Brigid. ‘Never! But isn’t it a pity you couldn’t sell some of them?’
‘What’s that, child?’ enquired Nano, rousing herself from the old tree stump that she had been sitting on.
‘Well, it’s only I … I … was sort of thinking that you and Mammy make the best jams and pies and tarts – better than anyone else – and I’m sure people might buy them …’ Mary-Brigid trailed off, feeling silly.
They were both staring at her.
‘I’m sure people would buy them,’ she continued, blushing. ‘And I heard you and Daddy saying we need to get some money and I just thought that –’
‘Aren’t you the wise girleen!’ interrupted Nano.
Eily swooped down and caught Mary-Brigid under the armpits and swung her round and round. ‘Mary-Brigid Powers, you are the cleverest bit of a thing I’ve ever come across!’
Mary-Brigid could feel the whole world and the grass tilt beneath her when her mother stopped spinning her. Why, she was just pure dizzy with excitement!
‘It will be like the old days back in the shop in Market Lane,’ said Nano wistfully. ‘Do you remember,
Eily?’
Nano’s and Eily’s eyes were shining, and Mary-Brigid bounced up and down with pride beside them.
‘We’ll need some extra sugar and flour, Nano, and we’ve Maisie’s eggs,’ said Eily, all excited, ‘and Mary-Brigid can go up to Old Drummond’s place, he always used to let the children pick some apples when he was alive. Folks always like a nice blackberry and apple pie.’
‘Jams and chutneys and pies …’ Nano was busy planning too. ‘Eily, you could go door-to-door selling, but to my mind the market is the best place for home produce.’
‘What do you think John will say to all this?’ asked Eily.
‘He’ll say what a good wife you are, pet, and what a smart daughter he’s got. That’s what he’ll say.’
At long last, despite all the chat and excitement, all three pails were full.
‘And we can come back again and again, and there’ll still be plenty more,’ said Eily happily.
Mary-Brigid could just about manage to lift her pail, and she had to walk carefully so as not to spill any of the precious berries. Her mother strode ahead of her, humming softly under her breath. It seemed such a long time since she’d heard her mother laugh or sing. The sound did her heart good.
OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS
, Eily and Nano worked long and hard in the little kitchen, washing and preparing the fruit. Miley Lynch, from the small public bar near the school, had let them help themselves to a pile of empty jars and bottles in his yard, and they had washed them out then boiled them in water till they were spotlessly clean. Every pot and pan in the place was in use as they boiled fruit and sugar. The smell of sweet syrup and apples filled the cottage.
Naturally, young Jodie was full of curiosity, and screamed when he was pulled away from hot things for fear he’d burn himself.
‘Mary-Brigid, the best thing you can do to help us is to take your little brother out of the way,’ suggested
Eily, so the children were forced to watch the goings-on from the doorway.
Nano spread a dusting of flour on the table and rolled out pale, oaten-coloured dough to make the pies. Then she quickly pared and sliced the apples and popped them in on top of the pastry.
They filled each glass jar with sweet jam and crab-apple and bramble jelly, and bottled the preserves and richly coloured chutneys.
Nano cut circles out of left-over scraps of cloth from the work-basket to tie on the lids, and Eily sat up till late in the night inscribing labels of white paper, which they glued on, saying:
HOMEMADE BLACKBERRY JAM
.
Michael sat in the corner watching them work. ‘This is just like being back at Nano and Lena’s,’ he said happily.
Eventually everything was finished, and Eily placed the jars and wide-necked bottles carefully in two huge straw baskets, ready for the morning. Nano had agreed to stay at home to mind Jodie. Michael would stay too, to mind the horses and help Nano if she needed it. Mary-Brigid and John and Eily would go to the market bright and early.
The Phelan brothers had lent John their donkey and cart and he had already loaded a creel of turf up onto the back. The baskets were put firmly in position, while Eily and Mary-Brigid held about a dozen pies
between them on the seat, along with a tray of Nano’s oat-and-apple biscuits, trying to keep the whole lot from falling as they slowly jogged along.
The Saturday-morning market was held in the centre off Castletaggart, and by the time they arrived many of the stall-holders had already set up. John took down two long sugán rope stools he had brought, and they balanced the baskets on one of them and the pies on the other.
For their first hour not a soul bought anything. All the passers-by were people just like themselves, anxious to sell something, hoping to make their rent money. Mary-Brigid watched anxiously as a procession of countryfolk, with geese and hens and ducks, filed by. Men carried big rounds of hard yellow cheese, and there were stalls with long pats of golden butter, stamped with circles of curving flowers. Clothes and clocks and household hardware and white-and-blue crockery – no matter what a person wanted, they could buy it at the Saturday market.
Then Eily decided that they should perhaps move to a better position, so Mary-Brigid helped to drag their things across to the other side of the wide green.
In what seemed like the blink of an eye the pies and biscuits were all sold out!
‘Nano will be right pleased,’ laughed Eily, patting the pocket of her skirt and listening to the reassuring jingle
of coins. But they still hadn’t sold any jam.
Mary-Brigid watched the stall across from them, where a mother and daughter were busy selling all sorts of bread and huge meat-pies and puddings. Judging by their conversation, many of the customers were regulars. They both watched enviously as customer after customer bought.
‘Mammy! They’d buy our jam if they only knew how good it tasted,’ said Mary-Brigid, trying to console her mother. ‘Maybe I could open a pot or two?’
‘Listen, pet,’ suggested Eily, ‘run across to the stall over yonder and buy a cake of soda bread. Here’s the money! And ask the lady if by any chance she could lend us a knife.’
The woman looked puzzled but obliged them, and Mary-Brigid ran back with a floury, golden cake of soda-bread. Straight away Eily began to slice it and lay it on an empty biscuit tray. She plopped a lump of rich blackberry jam on each small piece of bread.
‘Now, Mary-Brigid, these are for our customers!’ she announced, and she stood in front of the baskets and offered the slices to any passerby who looked like they might be customers. One jolly-looking woman bought three pots of jam while she stood munching on the bread. A gentleman stopped to buy some relish and several pots of Nano’s thick chutney.
Soon a sizeable group of curious people had
gathered to sample their produce and to buy. Eily pointed some of them in the direction of the woman who had made the bread, and the woman waved cheerily over to them.
Finally one basket was totally empty and the other held only two pots of jam and a jar of chutney.
Mary-Brigid noticed that many of the stall-holders were packing up and putting their things away as the market came to an end.
The girl from the stall across from them appeared at their stall. ‘My Mammy said to give you this and to thank you for the extra custom you sent us.’ She handed Mary-Brigid a huge meat-pie. One piece of crust had broken slightly, but heated up it would make a grand meal.
‘Thank you,’ said Eily, ‘and please take a pot of jam from us.’
The young girl grinned. ‘Will ye be back in two weeks?’ she asked. ‘We usually come every second week.’
Mary-Brigid watched anxiously as her mother thought about it. They could definitely make more jams and preserves and Nano seemed to know the kind of confectionery people wanted to buy.
‘Aye,’ Eily replied, ‘we’ll be back.’
‘Well, see you then,’ and the girl grinned at Mary-Brigid before running back to join her mother.
Mary-Brigid helped to lift the empty baskets as they went to meet John. He was standing in the distance, the cart empty, all the turf sold. ‘A widow woman who lives on her own in the middle of the town took the lot,’ he explained, ‘and she wants me to deliver to her every few weeks.’
‘Oh that’s grand, John,’ said Eily. ‘We’ve all done really well by the looks of it.’
‘Daddy, there’s a meat pie for the tea too,’ Mary-Brigid told him.
‘I’m proud of ye both,’ he said, as they climbed up on the cart.
‘We know,’ beamed Mary-Brigid. ‘Come on, let’s get away home quick and tell the others the good news.’
PEGGY MASHED THE POTATOES
, almost pulverising them. Mrs O’Connor arched her eyebrows in surprise. She watched as the young maid walloped them down into the warming bowl.
Two days ago she had said goodbye to Sarah in a hurry, standing outside the side-door of the factory. Both of them were in tears as they hugged each other. It might be years before they’d see each other again, if ever.
Sarah had promised to write and let her know of all her adventures. James and John had already purchased a wagon and a pair of fine strong horses, and they were now busy gathering supplies for the journey ahead.
Peggy just couldn’t imagine life in Boston without Sarah and John and James. Who would she visit when they were gone? Who would she tell stories of Mrs O’Connor and the Rowans to? Who would she spend her days off with? Who would she twirl and dance around the room with at the next céilí if James was not there?
She pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes with her sleeve, trying not to sniff.
Mrs O’Connor’s attention was drawn to a movement down on the pathway. It was a tall young man, striding towards the kitchen door.
‘Peggy!’ called the cook. ‘There’s a visitor at the door!’
Peggy looked up from her work, and, wiping her hands on her apron, went to the door. There was no one there. Then she spotted him standing under the wide cherry tree waiting for her. It was James.
Her heart skipped a beat as she ran towards him. Maybe Sarah was sick or something? She could tell he was nervous.
‘Peggy, I couldn’t go without saying goodbye to you properly,’ he said as soon as she reached him.
‘Oh!’ Peggy didn’t know how to respond.
‘We’re leaving first thing in the morning and I just had to see you, one last time.’
She bit her lip hard, trying to stop the tears.
‘I made a mess of it the last time we met,’ he continued, shyly. ‘It sounded like I didn’t care that much whether you came with us … but I do care … I … I love you very much, Peggy. I’ve loved you practically from the first day I met you on the Fortunata.’
Peggy stared at him. He had lost his nervousness now, and looked earnest.
He spoke urgently. ‘I waited and waited, Peggy, to give you time to grow up. Perhaps I waited too long.’
Peggy blushed, looking down at her apron.
‘John and I always planned to work a few years in the east before heading out to the new frontier. But you had always been part of my plan, Peggy. It’s your face I want to see first thing in the morning and last thing at night. That’s why I asked you to be my wife.’
Peggy put her face in her hands, trying to compose herself.
He touched her hair gently. ‘I wanted you to know that before I left. Goodbye, Peggy, my love!’
Peggy raised her head. He was looking at her so sadly it almost broke her heart.
‘James!’ she screamed like a wild-cat, flinging herself at him, pulling his face down to meet hers. ‘Don’t you dare go without me!’ she said in between the warmth of his kisses.
Then, holding her skirt and apron, she flew back up the path, pushed in the kitchen door, much to the
surprise of Mrs O’Connor and the housekeeper, and chased up the back stairs. Out of breath and panting, she kicked open the door of her room.