Under the Hawthorn Tree (9 page)

When they woke they breathed a few deep breaths of sea air again and made their way back through the field and on to the dusty road.

CHAPTER 11

Travelling by Night

THE DRY SPELL CONTINUED
. The sun beat down mercilessly. At midday the children would find shade under a tree and rest for about three hours. At times the road, which was now hardbaked, almost burned the soles of their feet. Little bluetits and sparrows chattered in the dust, looking for water. All the little brooks and streams had dried up, and the children’s water can was empty. The shame of it was that in the distance they could still see the rippling blue of the sea mocking them. But they had heard tell that if you drank salt water it would drive you crazy. They chewed grass and pulled unripe blackberries from the brambles, desperate for moisture. They sucked stems – anything to ease the thirst. Their lips were dry, cracked and sore. This was worse than the hunger.

Rounding a bend in the road, they stopped and stared in amazement at the landscape ahead. Everything in sight was charred and blackened. Here and there tiny spirals of smoke still drifted upwards. There wasn’t a blade of grass to be seen.

The children blessed themselves. The smell of burning assaulted their senses. They tied rags around their noses and mouths.

‘Someone must have set a fire and not put it out,’ said Michael. ‘With the dry spell it just ran in all directions.’

Nothing stirred in this bleakness, not a bird or an insect or a bee or an animal. It was too quiet. Fields of what had been gorse and heather and pasture had been laid bare.

‘Are we in hell?’ asked Peggy, her thin little face drawn and worried.

‘No,’ said Eily, ‘just a place destroyed. Come on, we’ll move through this as quick as we can.’

Gradually colour returned to the terrain and they were surrounded by fields of long, overgrown grass, dried out and standing tall. Peggy had found a ladybird and held it gently in the palm of her hand, chatting to it. Looking at her, Eily realised how young she was, just barely seven, and how brave a little girl she was. There was no point in stopping, they just had to keep going and get to
some water. Eventually they found a ditch. Large weeds and brambles grew over it and protected it from the sun’s sharp rays. They knelt down in the dry mud. At the base of the ditch the earth was still a dark brown and had not yet turned grey. The could not get the water into the water can as the ditch was too shallow, so they just took turns in scooping the muddy water up in their hands and sipping it. They swallowed the dirt too. The drink did not quench their thirst, but maybe it would be of some help. Exhausted, they sat down under a row of tall beech trees.

‘What will we do?’ wondered Eily, out loud.

Peggy was already dozing and did not hear her. Michael’s eyes were beginning to close too when he mumbled, ‘Why don’t we walk at night instead and in the early morning when it’s cooler?’

It made such sense, Eily could have kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. That’s what they would do.

The countryside took on a different shape in the dark. Luckily there was no cloud in the sky and the moon shone down brightly on them. Although weak and exhausted, they seemed to be able to walk for a longer distance without having to stop for a rest. There was lots of scampering and scurrying in the hedgerows as they passed and Peggy edged
nearer to Eily and Michael, fearful that some strange creature would jump out and attack her. There were many different sights and sounds all around them. They jumped every time they heard the screech of the night owl getting ready to hunt and the almost silent beat of its wings as it swooped and caught its prey. It was a time for the hunters and they would blink in surprise when the children came upon them, and move into the shadows.

One time they saw a large grey badger shuffling along, and the three of them held their breath not wishing to disturb him. About two miles further on they came upon a vixen and her cubs playing outside their den, nipping and chasing each other. The children moved on silently.

By the following night they had lost all sight of the sea and were near the base of the mountain. At least they were heading in the right direction, and if they could only manage to keep going they would be in Castletaggart in a few days and maybe they would find some relation who would look after them and take them in?

The next day was oppressive. There was a constant rasping dryness in their mouths and throats, and they could hardly get a breath of air. Nothing stirred all around them. Even the birds had stopped their twittering and singing. It was
strange. The only activity the children could see was the odd butterfly lazily hovering over a bunch of wild flowers. That night they had just started to get ready to move when they became aware of a low rumble in the distance. Terrified, they stayed where they were, pulling the blankets around them.

CHAPTER 12

The Thunderstorm

THE RUMBLING GREW AND GREW
, getting nearer and nearer. A streak of light would flash across the orange and grey sky, then the sky itself would thunder and roar. They had never seen such a bad thunderstorm. The lightning flashes got longer and wider, stretching even from the top of the mountain down to the fields below.

The children were terrified. Was it the end of the world? They prayed out loud to be spared.

Peggy was whimpering like a young puppy and had burrowed herself in between the other two, with her head hidden well under the shawl and the blankets. Eily was trying to stop herself shaking and was making a great effort to control her own fears.

The whole sky lit up every few minutes as the sheets of lightning flared all around them. The thunder was deafening. It was as if the huge clouds were banging into each other and fighting. Never in all their young lives had they seen or heard anything like it. Sometimes it would stop for a few minutes but then – Crash! – with a rumble it would all be back and start up again.

After a while, Michael relaxed a bit and began to make jokes about two huge giants fighting and trying to kill each other, up in a land above the clouds.

‘You take that,’ he’d shout when the thunder rolled. ‘I’ll strike you with my sword,’ when the lightning flashed.

On and on went the fighting for hours on end, and even Peggy, the odd time, would add on a bit to the story, but she would not stick her head out to have a look at what was going on.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the thunder and noise seemed to ease off and stop, though they could hear it in the distance.

Eily felt a droplet of rain on her nose, then another, and all at once the heavens opened. The rain came in torrents, beating down on them, and within a few seconds they were absolutely drenched. The water fell with such force that it
stung them. It was almost like being attacked by a swarm of insects. They fought to catch their breath. They opened their mouths, gulping the droplets down. The hard earth and dust underfoot softened and gradually became muddy.

Every living thing, although battered, seemed to stretch to absorb the much needed wet and moisture. Life was being renewed. The brooks and streams and rivers would fill again and flow through the countryside.

Michael threw off the blanket and danced around with pure joy in the early morning light, splattering himself with mud which the rain sluiced off him. The water cans filled up quickly.

Within a few hours the rain had stopped, the sun was up and bright, but without the harshness and glare of the previous few days. Now they could walk by day again.

CHAPTER 13

Peggy’s Fever

EILY COULD NOT UNDERSTAND IT
. The past two days had been perfect – they had had their fill to drink, a portion of grain each to chew. She had found a clump of large plump strawberries and also some tiny little hazelnuts. But Peggy was constantly cranky and whingeing and lagging behind. Michael and Eily took it in turns to catch her by her good arm and pull her along. She kept wanting to sit and rest. She was hungry and thin and exhausted, but so were they all.

Once or twice in frustration Eily had given her a wallop on the bottom, now knowing how Mother
must have felt when they had been bold. However, Peggy would invariably break into tears and sit down. Eily tried to keep calm and remember all the good things about Peggy. Michael constantly teased her, which was his way of dealing with the annoyance. They had passed the side of the mountain, and when they had got across country for another bit more they would find themselves on the road to Castletaggart – nearly at the end of their journey. Eily was letting herself drift into a dream where they were re-united with Mother and Father and had gone back to the old cottage and all the neighbours were there to greet them and …

‘Eily! Eily! Quick, it’s Peggy!’ shouted Michael.

She jerked out of her dream and ran back through the coarse grass.

‘What’s wrong with that child now?’ she muttered angrily. ‘I suppose she’s sitting down for another little rest …’ She stopped her sharp words. Peggy was lying on the ground, her eyes shut and her breathing coming too quickly. They both stood over her.

‘Peggy! Peggy!’

Peggy did not move or stir.

‘Oh my God, what is it?’ cried Eily, kneeling down. She touched Peggy’s forehead. It was burning. The skin on her shoulders and legs and
everywhere was hot to touch. She was burning up with a fever.

Michael ran on ahead to search for somewhere that would give a bit of shelter. A large hawthorn tree stood in the middle of the long coarse grass. Near the side of the field, about two yards from it, grew a few bushy shrubs. It was well hidden and protected. Michael came back up to Eily. They could not rouse Peggy. They laid a blanket on the ground and gently rolled her on to it, and then between the two of them they half-dragged and half-lifted it under the tree.

Peggy did not seem to be aware of what was going on around her. Eily settled her and placed the other blanket over her. A huge wave of guilt washed over Eily. She should have noticed that Peggy was sickening for something. She was meant to be the oldest and wisest – ‘the little Mother’!

‘Do you think she has the fever, Eily?’ asked Michael. ‘Or is it something after the dog biting her arm?’

Eily shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Michael, but whatever it is she’s burning up and very sick. It must have been coming on for the past few days.’

Then she remembered Mary Kate’s medicine and got the jar and mixed some of the powder with
water. She raised Peggy a bit and managed to pour some of it into her mouth. Peggy spluttered as it went down her throat, and then seemed to sink back into a long deep sleep.

‘Will we light a fire?’ questioned Michael, trying to think of something to help the situation. He set about looking for flint stones and gathered any pieces of dry twigs and moss that he could find. He preferred to be busy. He did not want to have time to think or worry.

Eily watched him. Then for an hour he tried to get a spark to light the fire, but nothing happened. Eily had a few goes too.

‘Leave it, Michael, we can try later.’ Eily dampened a cloth with water and laid it to Peggy’s burning cheeks and forehead. Her whole head of dark brown hair was clammy with sweat as she tossed and turned. A few times she called out for Mother in a low voice.