The Letter (18 page)

Kathleen lived a frugal life on the small farm at the foot of the Galtee Mountains in the South of Ireland. There was no electricity or running water, and life was a struggle in this rural, rugged, unforgiving landscape. The farmhouse was decrepit and the damp rose up relentlessly from the boggy earth, seeping through the thick, crumbling walls and taking up residence in the bones. The fire in the kitchen was used for heat and cooking and was never allowed to go out. At night, Kathleen covered the embers with the grey burned-through ash and in the morning when this was raked off, the fire would still be glowing underneath and would come to life again. Water was drawn from the well each morning before breakfast and a pot set over the fire to heat it, a back-breaking process which took hours. The turf for the fire had to be cut from the bog and then pulled on a slide by the farm’s carthorse, and it had to be dried out before it was fit to burn.

Kathleen tugged at a fresh chunk of dried–out turf and threw it on the fire. Immediately, the room was filled with smoke and Kathleen coughed violently, as she always did. She stood up and eased herself slowly into an upright position, rubbing her back as she did so. She was only forty-five, but the years of hard work in the pitiless damp climate had taken their toll. She had no idea what time her niece would be arriving, or how for that matter, but it was no concern of hers. There was no way that she could stay at the farm in her condition. The shame of it caused Kathleen’s face to redden even though she was alone. It was only a tiny community and the news of a pregnancy out of wedlock would spread like wildfire. Kathleen could picture the congregation nudging themselves as she settled herself into her pew; her head hung low with the mortification of it all. In the name of God, what was her sister thinking sending over her wayward daughter like this?

Kathleen opened the door and called into the yard.

‘Jackie, would you come here a minute.’

Jackie Creevy, nineteen years old, and yet to be diminished by years of endless labour, looked up from the old carthorse he was attending to and sprinted over to Kathleen.

‘Yes, Miss McBride, what can I do for yer?’

Kathleen smiled with something approaching fondness, but the worry was clearly etched on her face.

‘Erm, my niece will be arriving sometime today. I’m not sure when exactly, but would you mind keeping an eye out for her? As soon as she arrives, I want you to fetch me. Don’t talk to her or ask her any questions. I expect she’ll arrive on the donkey cart from town.’

‘Of course, Miss McBride. Sure that will be nice for yer.’

He doffed his cap and returned to where Sammy was still waiting patiently. The old horse’s legs were caked with mud and Jackie knew that if he didn’t clean them thoroughly he could get mud fever and Miss McBride would not be best pleased with that. He considered Miss McBride’s news as he tended to the horse’s feathers, gently rubbing away the mud with a soft brush. In the four years since he had arrived at the farm, Miss McBride had never spoken of her family and now all of a sudden a niece was coming to stay. Jackie thought this would be nice for his employer. She never had visitors other than her priest from time to time, but the look on her face had told him that this particular visitor was not that welcome and the news was not as exciting as one would assume.

He finished the horse’s legs with a rub down of castor oil to keep out the damp and led him into the barn for his hay. He whistled for the farm dogs that were asleep at the back of the barn, nestled amongst the straw. They immediately sprang into action and yelped excitedly around Jackie’s legs. He called for the two other farm workers, Michael and Declan, also snatching a crafty forty winks, and they all set off up the lane to bring in the cattle for the evening milking. It was only a small herd, but nevertheless the milking would take the four of them a good couple of hours to complete. As Jackie ambled along the lane with the others he wondered if this niece would be staying long, and whether she would be pulling her weight around the farm. They sure could use all the help they could get.

Kathleen was hauling a dead sheep out of a ditch as the cattle came into the yard. She wiped her hands down her apron and went across to the milking shed. Michael led the cows in one by one and Kathleen tied a piece of twine around the more difficult animals’ back legs. More than once she had had a farm labourer injured and out of action for days after a swift, vicious kick from a disgruntled cow.

The cowshed fell silent, save for the squirts of milk as they hit the metal pails and Jackie turned to Kathleen, who was pulling on the cow’s udders more savagely than usual.

‘What’s your niece’s name, Miss McBride?’ he ventured.

Kathleen squeezed harder, causing the cow to stamp her back legs in protest.

‘Now, Jackie, you don’t need to concern yourself with little details like that. She won’t be here long.’

‘That’s a pity, Miss McBride. She’ll be company for you and she could help you with your chores.’

‘She’s a city girl, Jackie. I doubt she even knows where milk comes from. It just appears on her doorstep like magic, I imagine.’

‘Ah, well. You could educate her Miss McBride, so you could.’

Kathleen straightened up and moved her stool on to the next cow.

‘You’re quick tonight, Miss McBride,’ said Jackie with admiration. Nobody could accuse Miss McBride of not pulling her weight.

‘There’s a dead sheep outside, Jackie. Could you put it on one side for Pat.’

‘That, I will, Miss McBride.’

Pat was a local trader who visited all the farms in the valley and took away any surplus produce they might have to sell. He took the eggs, cream, butter and vegetables into town and hawked them round the shops. He would inform the shopkeepers of the origin of the produce and they would pay Kathleen directly. Pat took a small commission and Kathleen also let him take away any sheep that had died of natural causes. You couldn’t eat a sheep if you didn’t know what it had died of, but Pat would be able to get a small amount for the wool. He would then boil up the carcass for hours, skim off the resulting fat and then sell it back to the farms as wagon wheel grease. He had even managed to sell some to the chemist in Tipperary Town who made this foul, greasy substance into soap and face cream.

Dusk was falling as Jackie settled himself down in the barn. He had slept on a bed of straw for the past four years, cuddled up to the dogs, with a paraffin lamp his only source of light. Kathleen provided him with thick blankets and always brought him a mug of hot cocoa before she turned in for the night. He had been happy here since being orphaned at fourteen, and Kathleen had taken pity on him. He didn’t earn much, but he had enough food and shelter and sometimes Michael and Declan took him down to the local pub for a game of dominoes or cards. It was a simple life that thrived on routine, with each day not varying greatly from the next. So it was that as he heard the sound of the donkey’s hooves as it trotted into the yard, Jackie’s heart quickened. He stood in the doorway of the barn and regarded the little cart. The driver alighted and offered his hand to Miss McBride’s young niece. She took it hesitantly and jumped down off the cart, taking in her surroundings as she did so. Jackie was captivated by the little scene and stood motionless before he remembered his manners. He jogged over to greet the new arrival and removed his cap.

‘Good evening. You must be Miss McBride’s niece. Welcome to Briar Farm.’

‘That’s right. My name’s Chrissie. How do you do?’

She looked absolutely exhausted, her skin was pale and insipid, her lips were dry and cracked and her blonde hair was limp and had no style. In spite of all this though, Jackie thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She had an endearing sweetness about her, but she looked vulnerable and he instantly wanted to protect her. He took her little suitcase and guided her towards the cottage.

‘My name’s Jack Creevy, but everybody calls me Jackie.’

Chrissie smiled at his warmth and lovely Irish brogue. ‘Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jackie.’

‘To be sure. Follow me, I’ll take you to your Aunt.’

The cottage was tiny, with a low thatched roof and two little windows either side of the front door. It was absolutely ancient and looked as though it might fall down at any minute, but the glow from the fire within made it a welcoming sight and Chrissie felt relieved to be here at last.

Chapter 17

Jackie led Chrissie up to the little front door and knocked tentatively. He smiled at Chrissie and they both watched as Kathleen wrestled with the door. The constant damp had swollen the timbers so that it turned a simple task such as opening a door into one fraught with frustration. Eventually, the door sprang back and Chrissie caught her very first glimpse of her aunt. Although only a couple of years older than her own mother, Kathleen looked at least a decade older. Her hair was completely grey, her face was weather-beaten and lined and she stooped like a woman twice her age. Kathleen in turn regarded her niece warily. She was wearing a thick winter coat and Kathleen could not tell if the pregnancy was showing or not. She turned to Jackie.

‘Water, please Jackie.’

‘Of course, Miss McBride.’

It was then that Chrissie noticed the wall-mounted receptacle next to the front door. It was made of stone and had a faded postcard of Jesus Christ on the cross nailed to it. Beneath the picture was a little basin which was filled with water.

Jackie dipped his fingers in and sprinkled some over Chrissie. She shook her head as a few droplets ran into her eyes.

‘Holy Water,’ whispered Jackie.

Kathleen held out her hand and Chrissie took it, embarrassed that her damp palms gave away her nervousness. Kathleen’s hand was incredibly rough and calloused and felt like she was actually wearing worn leather gloves. The skin on her hands was now so hard she could pull up thistles and brambles without a flinch.

‘You must be Chrissie. Come in, won’t you. That will be all Jackie, thank you.’

‘Sure. Goodnight, Miss McBride. Goodnight, Chrissie.’

Kathleen glared at Jackie. That boy was so disobedient sometimes. In spite of what she had told him he was already on first-name terms with her niece.

Chrissie turned and gave a small wave to Jackie as he retreated to the barn.

‘Now then, Chrissie. Let’s get you out of that coat, shall we?’

Chrissie pulled off the heavy coat and handed it to Kathleen, who slung it over her arm. She took a step back and looked Chrissie up and down.

‘You can’t tell then?’

Chrissie smoothed down her dress and patted her stomach.

‘I’m only two months gone. The baby’s not due until April.’

Kathleen sighed with relief. She had more time than she thought. Maybe she could make use of Chrissie for a few months.

‘And you are fit and well?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘And the baby’s father?’

Chrissie was not in the mood for this barrage of questions from a complete stranger, no matter that they were related to each other.

Chrissie merely shook her head.

‘What were you thinking of, girl? Didn’t your parents instil you with any morals at all? Have you any idea of the shame you have brought on this family?’

Chrissie exhaled deeply. ‘I’m beginning to, yes.’ Her chin began to wobble and Kathleen relented.

‘We’ll talk about this later, you look absolutely shattered. Come on, have a seat by the fire and I’ll put the pot on for a cup of tea.’

Chrissie sat down gratefully and took off her shoes.

‘I wouldn’t mind a bath if it’s not too much trouble. I’ve been travelling for the best part of two days.’

‘A bath? Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Where do you think you have come, girl?’

Chrissie looked around the sparse room with its meagre furnishings and realised her mistake.

‘Water is drawn from the well outside and heated up in this.’ Kathleen indicated the large blackened pot which hung over the fire. ‘It’s quite adequate, you’ll get used to it. Toilet is outside behind the barn.’

Chrissie fought back her tears. ‘And where will I sleep?’

‘Over there. There’s only one bedroom.’

Chrissie turned to see a small cot which had been made up in the corner.

‘Now,’ said Kathleen, adopting an official tone. ‘It looks like we’ve both been lumbered with each other for the time being. I’m not sure who’s come off worse, but whilst you are here, we might as well try to get along. I take it you’ve no objection to hard work?’

Chrissie shook her head. ‘Of course not. I help, that is, I
used
to help out in Father’s surgery.’

Kathleen scoffed. ‘I’m talking about proper work, girl. You ever milked a cow? Hauled a bale of straw? Cleaned out a stable or harvested crops in all weathers?’

Chrissie shook her head.

‘Thought not. Well, you haven’t come here for a holiday. I’ll expect you to earn your keep.’

Kathleen passed over a jam jar filled with tea for Chrissie. ‘I got the best china out in your honour.’

Kathleen winked as she sipped her tea and Chrissie managed a weak smile.

When it was time for bed, Chrissie was permitted to accompany Kathleen upstairs to her bedroom. In the corner was a table on which a pristine white table cloth had been laid out. There were two candles at either end and in the middle were three statues of Our Lady, St Joseph and the Infant Jesus of Prague. Dried flowers were arranged neatly along the front.

‘This is my altar,’ said Kathleen proudly. ‘You can pray here with me before you go to bed.’

‘Thank you.’

‘The family that prays together stays together.’

Chrissie thought about her aunt’s lonely existence, deserted by her two brothers and sister, but said nothing.

Kathleen knelt down and Chrissie followed suit. The hard wooden floor was unforgiving on the knees and Chrissie struggled to get comfortable. Kathleen clasped her hands and closed her eyes.

‘Dear Father. We thank you for bringing Chrissie safely to our home. We pray for guidance regarding the unfortunate position she finds herself in. We pray that her soul is cleansed of its stain before she departs this world for the next. We give thanks for the harvest we have so far gathered from the fields and pray that our crops will continue to grow in abundance. We thank you for watching over our animals as they graze out in your verdant pastures. We pray that you continue to watch over Jackie and the others and keep them free from disease and mishaps through the winter months. Father, we pray that you forgive us our sins. Amen.’