Under the Hawthorn Tree (6 page)

Through the rushes and weeds that covered the river bank, they could at times glimpse people on the distant road. As the ground near the river was stonier, Eily felt it might be easier for Michael to walk on the well-worn path. They passed a few other people on the path, but avoided them, remembering Mary Kate’s warning. Then a man came by on horseback, pulling a slide. He had a piece of cloth tied around his face, his eyes stared straight ahead. On the slide were piled four or five skeleton-like bodies, their bare skin and bones showing through the rags. The children moved away, turning their backs. Eily clamped the palms of her hands over Peggy’s eyes, trying to protect her from such a sight.

Dejectedly they kept on going, and after a few miles they came upon a carriage. A horde of people surrounded it, silent and threatening. The driver
was trying to calm the terrified horse as two very shaken passengers took in the frenzy around them. They were afraid for their lives. The man stood up and scattered coins on the ground, hoping to disperse the crowd and clear a path. The woman had lost her bonnet and was pale with shock at the desperate appearance of the men, women and children all around.

Frightened by these things, the children slipped off the road and on to a trail which ran in the same direction as the river. Eily could not stop herself longing for Father and Mother and wondering what might have happened to them.

By next morning, Michael’s leg had swollen and he could not bend his knee. They would not be able to get very far with such a setback. He managed to hobble for about a mile. Then they had such luck they could hardly believe it. They had just crossed a stile when at the far end of the field, under a clump of huge chestnut trees, they noticed a little spiral of smoke. Peggy ran on ahead.

‘It’s a fire,’ she called. ‘Come on quick and see.’

She was right. They could hardly believe it – the dying embers of a fire! Eily frantically scrambled around under the trees looking for some dry twigs. She found a few and carefully put them on the embers, then knelt down and began to blow softly.
A slight flicker of flame began to stir. Peggy was jumping up and down with excitement. Suddenly a finger of flame touched the dryness of the twigs and set them alight. They had a fire. Michael lowered himself down gently to the ground and positioned himself against the broad trunk of one of the trees, his legs stretched out in front of him. The girls put down their things and then set out to search for anything that would fuel the fire. They kept going backwards and forwards with the twigs and sticks, until they felt they had enough to keep it going.

Obviously some other people had passed this way not so long before. There were other signs of their presence too. Eily searched the long grass until she found the thick blackened branch that they must have used for the fire. She hung the pot from it and poured in some water and a piece of lard, then two handfuls of the yellow meal. She also set three wizened-looking spuds to bake in the embers. Tonight they would eat well, as they were all famished and getting weaker and would need strength to search for food.

Although the weather was warm, it was lovely to feel the heat of the fire and to smell something cooking. Michael looked dead tired. For once he had to rest easy and let the girls do all the work.
The meal began to burn and Eily had to scrape it out of the pot, but still it was good to have something warm inside your stomach. She put the pot on again to boil some water.

‘What’s that for?’ queried Michael. ‘Is there more to eat?’ he asked hopefully.

‘You strap,’ joked Eily, ‘and I’ve no big wooden spoon here. Will you whisht. It’s for yourself, for the leg, and if you’re good there’ll be a baked spud after.’

It didn’t take long for the water to boil.

‘What are you going to do, Eily?’ Michael asked, his voice fearful.

‘Something I’ve seen Mother do a few times,’ she replied. ‘Do you remember when Father got that splinter in his hand, and when Peggy got that bad gash on her knee? Michael, the wound is full of poison. We’ve got to get rid of it and clean it out.’

She lifted the pot off the fire and set it on a stone. She got the blade and held it in the water for about two minutes and then quickly laid it against the vicious cut on his leg for a few seconds. Michael screamed with the pain. Then she dropped the blade and tore a strip of cloth from her spare shift. She dipped it in the water, then tied it over the wound and around the leg.

‘It’s too hot. Take it off, take it off, Eily,’ begged
Michael.

‘No, it’s got to stay,’ she replied sternly as she began to tear up another strip of cloth and soak it in the water, hoping her little brother wouldn’t notice the tears in her eyes.

She changed the dressing three times, and the third time the cloth was stained yellow and green where the pus was draining away. She poured the still fairly hot water over the leg, washing the wound out and finally she tied a dry strip of cloth over it.

The next morning Eily breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Michael. The swelling had gone down and the vivid red streaks that ran up his leg had now faded to a dusty pink. She forbade him to stand on the leg, and made him rest it as she boiled some more water and replaced the strips of cloth.

The most urgent thing now was to get more water and fuel, and if possible something to eat. Eily made her way down towards a stream she had noticed a while back, to refill the cans. She did not trust Peggy, first of all not to fall into the water and then not to spill it all running back. Peggy was dispatched to search for more firewood, and if she saw anything edible to remember where. However, she had to stay within shouting distance of Michael.

On the way back, Eily could not believe her luck
when she spotted a clump of tiny wild strawberries, their little red hearts peeping through a mass of nettles and weeds. She would come back for them and also for a few new nettles to add to a bit of soup. Peggy was back before her and ran wild with excitement towards her.

‘Eily, Eily, just wait ‘till you see what I’ve got. Come on quickly,’ urged Peggy.

Eily placed the water cans in a steady spot, waiting to see what all the fuss was about. Peggy ran behind the tree and emerged with a large rabbit hanging from her hands. Glassy-eyed, it stared at Eily and Michael. It looked like it had been dead for a day or more.

‘Where did you get it, pet?’ asked Eily gently. ‘You didn’t catch it yourself?’

‘No, Eily, I found it, just lying near a bunch of lovely blue flowers. Isn’t it grand?’ Peggy said proudly.

Eily didn’t know what to say. God knows they could do with a bit of meat, but she couldn’t help but remember Mary Kate’s warning about eating only fresh meat and not touching anything they found already dead.

‘Peggy, pet, don’t you remember what old Mary Kate told us?’

Peggy’s face crumpled in disappointment.
However, she accepted the sense of Eily’s words and ran back into a clump of trees and flung the rabbit away. Eily consoled her by saying that maybe there were a few rabbits around where she had found that one and they might catch one yet. Also, she told her to fetch the pot and she would show her where some baby wild strawberries grew.

The day was spent gathering anything that was vaguely edible and more fuel. Michael wanted to try to walk, but Eily insisted he give the leg another day’s rest. They sucked the wild strawberries until their mouths were stained red. Eily also found an untended plot of land with a few stragglers of young carrots and turnips. She filled her pockets, delighted with herself and the thought of the nourishing soup she could now make with just the addition of a sliced spud.

That afternoon the sun was so warm that Peggy and Eily ran off to the river to cool down and waded in as far as their waists, splashing each other and washing the grime off their bare arms and their necks and faces. Then they lay on the river bank in their shifts until the sun had dried them off. That night there was a large helping of soup for everyone and the last of the yellow meal pan-cooked.

The following day, Michael was up before them
and standing in front of them, proudly showing that his leg was healed. His walking was a bit stiff, but he was anxious to explore his surroundings. They knew they should move on, but were loath to leave the comforts of the fire. They built it up a bit before showing Michael around.

Peggy brought them to where she had found the rabbit. They huddled down in the bracken and after a very long wait were rewarded with the sight of a family of young rabbits nibbling and playing a few feet away. The children kept perfectly still. Michael had a large stone gripped between his fingers. He had spotted a little one that had strayed too far from the rest, busy nibbling at some juicy grass. Within an instant he had taken aim. At first it seemed that the rabbit was just stunned. All the others had scampered off and disappeared. Then Michael realised how accurate he had been as the rabbit took its last breath. He ran over and lifted it up. It was very small. There wouldn’t be much eating in it, but at least it was meat.

Peggy came over to Michael and belted him on the chest. She was clearly upset at seeing the young animal die. Eily made sure to decoy her away when Michael was skinning and cleaning it. However, once Eily had boiled the rabbit with a few carrots and a bit of wild onion, there were no objections
from Peggy to such filling fare. That night their stomachs groaned from trying to digest such good nourishing food.

It was still dark when they felt the first specks of rain touch their faces. At about seven o’clock that morning the rain came, heavy and steady. Their fire had gone out, the rain-water washing through the ashes and running in grey rivulets through the grass. They gathered up their belongings. The two girls pulled their shawls up over their heads. There was no point in staying any longer. They had to be on their way again.

CHAPTER 7

The Soup Kitchen

FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS
it rained on and off. All their clothes were damp. Their bones ached. At night they lay on the wet ground trying to find some shelter as they wrapped up in their damp blankets. They had made their way to the road again, as the grass was too wet for walking.

A few times other people passed them by. Most just nodded. They looked miserable – ragged and undernourished and dirty. The children were unaware that they themselves looked just as bad. As luck had it, a tall thin boy of about fifteen fell into step beside them.

‘Joseph T. Lucy,’ he announced, introducing
himself with a bow. His clothes were filthy and Eily couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose as he also smelled of sweat and grime. Despite these failings, he was a good companion, and after about a half an hour Eily relaxed enough to loosen her hold on the near-empty food bag.

Joseph informed them that they were only about an hour from the small village of Kineen. He had heard that some strange religious folk had set up a soup kitchen for the poor of the area there.

‘C’mon,’ he urged them, ‘we might all get a dacent meal and a bit of a rest.’

Joseph was right, it would be good to have a meal, and perhaps they might meet someone they knew and who might have word of Mother and Father. Kineen it was, then.

Eily could not believe the crowds when they reached the village. Hundreds of ragged starving people thronged the small main street. They queued, desperate for food. Some were so weak they could not stand, so they sat on the ground, dejected but determined to keep their place. The children fell into line at the very back. Eily’s eyes roved over the crowd, searching to see if she could pick out any familiar face.

The faces – the faces – she would never forget them. They all had the same look. The cheeks were
sunken, the eyes wide and staring with deep circles underneath, the lips narrow and tight, and in some the skin had a yellow tinge. Hunger and sickness had changed these people. Now they were like ghosts. Old women clawed and tried to push their way to get further up the line. Mothers stood staring ahead as scrawny toddlers pulled and whined against their filthy skirts. This must be hell, thought Eily, for once really terrified.

Suddenly in the distance three women with aprons and caps emerged from the doors of a ramshackle shed, lifting a large heavy cauldron. Immediately the crowd surged forward. Eily just managed to grab hold of Peggy, whose feet were actually lifted off the ground in the panic. Peggy fastened her arms around Eily’s waist and rested her head against her chest. She was exhausted and scared.

The women had begun to ladle out the soup. There were tin mugs for those who did not have anything of their own. Twice the pot was refilled before the children actually moved forward.

Now Eily had a clearer view. She could make out figures inside the shed busily chopping carrots and turnips and onions and throwing them into large wooden vats, along with scoops of barley and buckets of water. A man then came along with a
bucket of roughly chopped pieces of meat and offal and threw them in too.

The afternoon passed and they still had not reached the top. All the children were worried about was that the soup would run out before they had their turn. Finally they got there. An exhausted woman begged one of the servers for two extra mugs for her two children, who were about half a mile back along the road. They were too weak to walk any further. She was refused, but when she took a long gulp of the hot soup from her own mug, the server quickly replaced it with a bit of a top-up. The woman carefully made her way back through the crowds carrying the precious liquid. Eily and Michael and Peggy and Joseph all took a big swallow of the soup too when their turn came, but no top-up was offered. Then they found a free bit of space to sit and enjoy the meal. The soup was greasy and globs of fat floated on its surface, but it would keep them going.