Saving Christmas in the Little Irish Village (The Little Irish Village #5)

Chapter 14

14

1961

Kitty stared at her mam, who’d her back to her as she diced the vegetables for that night’s dinner with a methodical chop, chop, chop. It was such an ordinary, everyday sound echoing around the kitchen. Yet, Kitty’s whole world had changed with the uttering of one sentence. ‘You’re to be leaving school at the end of the month.’

Her younger brothers had run along to school ahead of her, and her eldest brother, John, would be in the cowshed with Da. She could hear the cows’ mournful moos and fancied they sympathised with her because it was all arranged. Mam had already notified the school. There was an aching lump in her throat at the unfairness of decisions made around her life without any input from her. Nonetheless, she tried to swallow the lump, knowing her tears wouldn’t do her any good. Not when her mam’s back was as straight as an ironing board like so. That was a sure sign her mind was made up. She wouldn’t be bent on the topic because while Da ran the farm with John’s help, keeping food on their table, Mam had the final say in matters pertaining to what went on under their cottage roof.

Kitty wouldn’t usually answer back, but she couldn’t stop this morning, and the words spilled forth as she said her piece. ‘But I don’t understand, Mam. Why? Sure, I’ve only six months until I finish school.’ The tremble crept in despite her best efforts not to cry. ‘Don’t make me finish without my Leaving Certificate, Mam,’ she sniffed, half pleading as she brushed hot, angry tears away.

There was so much more bubbling inside her, but Mam wouldn’t understand. So far as she was concerned, your lot in life was your lot. She wouldn’t understand dreams that were bigger than the small pond God had allocated for you. Kitty swept the breadcrumbs off the table uncaringly onto the floor. How would any of those dreams come true if she were nothing more than a skivvy for a doctor, his wife and their children with no way of bettering herself? Education was the key to bigger things than Emerald Bay or Kilticaneel, where she was being sent. Kitty wanted to go to America. She wanted to see the Statue of Liberty guarding the waters around New York City.

‘Sure, the position will have been filled in six months. Think yourself lucky that Doctor Price and his wife agreed to take you on without meeting you. There’s many young girls would bite your hand off for such an opportunity.’

‘I’d gladly hold out my hand,’ Kitty muttered, not feeling lucky or fortunate. What she felt was wretched, and it was Father Barry’s fault. The interfering priest had found her the position when Mam went to him worried about how the family would fare during the winter months. He’d known through word of mouth that a new doctor was taking over the neighbouring town of Kilticaneel’s practice. The doctor and his young family were moving from Dublin and would need live-in help. She was to help look after the children and keep the house. Kitty, hearing this, had silently raged that housekeepers were old. They weren’t seventeen, nearly eighteen years old with their whole lives ahead of them and dreams of going to America!

‘I’d rather work in the factory over in Kilticaneel, Mam. At least that way, I wouldn’t have to live in.’ The large textile printers, known as the cotton factory, had opened two years earlier. If she had no choice but to leave school, at least there, she’d spend her days around girls her own age and could get the bus home each evening.

‘And we’d still have an extra mouth to feed at home. This way, you’ll receive a full board and earn, Kitty. All this carrying on of yours is nothing short of selfish. Sure, your brothers are growing lads; they need a square meal on an evening table.’

Was it selfish to want a say in your own life? Kitty pondered the question as she stared down at her plaid skirt. She didn’t think it was. Sure, things were hard, and the family was doing it tough, thanks to the vulnerabilities of farming. Still, she’d gladly forfeit her share of the meat and live on carrots and potatoes alone if it meant not having to go and live with strangers. Didn’t that make her selfless? When she flung this at her mam’s back, she shook her head and bossed her to get to school, or she’d be late.

Kitty scraped her chair back from the table in a deliberately annoying manner and got up. She picked up her book bag and moved woodenly toward the door, pausing before tugging it open. She was reluctant to leave the warmth of the familiar kitchen behind and the argument un-won. ‘But, Mam, what if they’re awful people?’

Still, her mam didn’t turn round, carrying on with the chop, chop, chopping.

‘Father Barry has assured me the Prices are a fine family, and Doctor Price will have his own practice, won’t he?’ Her clipped tone implied this was all the qualification needed to be a decent human being. ‘And are your ears painted on? Because we’ve already been through all of this, I don’t want to hear another word about the matter. You’re giving me a headache, so you are.’

The warning note in her mam’s voice registered, but Kitty paid no heed to her frustration, making her want to goad her further. ‘I’m nearly eighteen, Mam. You can’t make me go.’

That did it. Quick as a flash, her mam banged the knife down on the chopping board and picked up the wooden spoon that was lurking conveniently close by, then spun round. ‘Don’t think you’re too old for this. Not when you live under mine and your da’s roof.’ She waved the spoon, her face pinkening with irritation, and Kitty’s body reflexively tensed. ‘Now you listen to me good and proper. We all have to do things we don’t want to do sometimes. Do you think your da and John want to be up before light each morning seeing to the cows? Do you think I want to be standing here trying to eke out the meat and vegetables day in, day out?’

Kitty hadn’t thought about it. Working on the farm was what Da did, and there’d been no stopping John from leaving school as soon as he was able to join Da. Her brother preferred working with his hands and being outdoors. Sitting at a desk day in and day out with information being shouted at him had been purgatory. As for Mam, well, keeping the family fed was just what she did. For the first time, however, Kitty noticed the weary lines on her mam’s face and the grey tinge to her skin. She felt a sliver of shame.

‘No. You didn’t think, did you? We do what we must in this life, Kitty, and I’d thank you to think about someone other than yourself on your walk to school this morning. Now out that door with you before you feel this on the back of your legs.’ She stepped closer, waving the wooden spoon again, and Kitty, not needing to be told twice, headed out the door smartly.

She was only too aware that while she’d had the face eaten off her, at least she’d not felt the sting of that spoon on the back of her legs. Still and all, she’d taken ten or so paces before she relaxed and paid attention to the day that awaited her. The crispness of autumn had arrived, and this morning, it was misty. It would burn off later and, with any luck, leave a blue-sky day in its wake.

Over to her right, she saw her da, an indistinct shape in the haze, as he emerged from the barn and waved. Kitty didn’t wave back; she was still seething as she hurried down the path. She needed to put space between her family and the traitorous thoughts of running away. Where she’d go, she didn’t know, but right now, she didn’t care either.

The route to the school was one Kitty could have followed with her eyes closed. The well-trodden path wound its way past fields and bogs. She possessed a vivid imagination, and on mornings such as this, she enjoyed whiling the walk away by turning the spectral shapes shrouded by the mist into mysterious objects.

In the distance, she could hear whistling and digging. It would have sounded eerie if she hadn’t known what it was, and when she rounded the bend, there was no mistaking the team of three transient turf cutters already hard at work. The men had been contracted by Mr Scully, who owned the larger farm adjacent to Kitty’s family. Although technically, the land they were working on didn’t belong to Mr Scully. It belonged to a poor family who’d succumbed to the Great Hunger and left their farm untended and their cottage empty. They’d literally just walked away, never to be heard from again. Nobody would dare argue the toss with Mr Scully, though. He wielded too much clout in the village, so if he wanted to employ turf cutters on the abandoned farm’s land, so be it.

This morning, she could see the lads and the famine cottage with its roof tumbling in on itself behind them clear as day. It was as if someone had come along with a blackboard eraser and rubbed the spaces around the trio and the old cottage clean of the mist. The tall lad in charge of the sléan slicing into the earth had caused her heart to flip about like a fish gasping for air, however.

They’d appeared on Monday morning, and he’d leaned on that cutter he was wielding to give her a cheeky hello, a glint of admiration in deep-set blue eyes. Today was Friday, and her heart didn’t skip its usual beat at the sight of him. It was too heavy, and she was in no mood for banter. A girl couldn’t help but notice how broad his shoulders were beneath his woollen jersey, though. Or how he’d a smile that creased his dirt-encrusted face, making his teeth shine white as he doffed his cap at her appreciatively and called out a greeting. Despite this, she gave no hint of the shy smile she’d sent his way every other morning as she continued to walk. She was too busy imagining herself with a tissue in one hand, wiping someone else’s children’s snotty noses, duster in the other.

The footfall behind her startled her.

‘If I’ve offended you, then I’m sorry.’

Kitty sighed and slowed, allowing him to catch her up and keep pace. ‘It’s not you who’s upset me.’

‘Then who.’ He punched the air in front of him, adding with theatrical flair. ‘I’ll sort them out for you.’ The dimple piercing his cheek told her he was joking, and she couldn’t help the tremor of a smile.

‘Good luck with that. I’d like to see anyone take my mammy on and win, especially when she’s got hold of the wooden spoon.’

A sheepish grin flashed. ‘I told the lads we’re taking a break. I can listen if you can walk and talk at the same time.’

Kitty realised he was in charge as she watched those shoulders on which you could rest the weight of the world shrug with his offer. The need to share the injustice heaped upon her by her mam this morning welled up. So, taking a deep breath, she dumped the whole sorry lot on his shoulders as they followed the path toward the village. When she finished, she felt surprisingly lighter and looked up at him, unsure of what he’d say, if anything.

What he did come back with surprised her. It echoed her mam’s words, but hearing him say them made her feel better.

‘Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. I’m cutting turf at another man’s bequest, but it’s my own boss I want to be. I will be, too, but not just yet. So for now, I’ll keep my chin up and a smile on my face because I’m a firm believer that things usually work out grand in the end.’

The quiet conviction in his words left Kitty with no doubt that things would work out, and her step faltered as it dawned on her. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

‘Nor me yours.’

‘Katherine, but everyone calls me Kitty, so you can, too.’

‘A pretty name for a beautiful girl. I’m Finbar, but everybody calls me Fin,’ he replied with a wink.

By the time Kitty reached the village school, the mist was beginning to melt away. She’d forgotten about the Leaving Cert and fretting about living with a strange family or handing her wages to Mam. The Statue of Liberty and America had even been swept away. Instead, her mind was filled with eyes the colour of the blue marbles she’d always coveted from John’s prized collection and a very different future to the one she’d imagined for herself.

Present Day

Kitty’s tea was cooling in front of her. ‘I knew that morning I’d marry Finbar.’

Hannah’s expression was dreamy as she rested her chin on her steepled hands. Nan had transported her to another time and place. She wasn’t finished with her story yet either.

‘We’d meet at the cottage. I’d sneak out once everyone was snoring and pick my way down the path to the abandoned farm. He’d bring a blanket to wrap around us, and we’d?—’

‘Nan!’ Hannah wasn’t sure she wanted to know what came next.

‘What? You young ones all think you invented falling in love, but I’ll have you know your granddad was a gentleman. We’d talk for hours inside the old famine cottage. The ghosts inside its four walls were privy to all our hopes and dreams. It was our place, Hannah. Mine and Finbar’s; theirs too.’

Nan’s conviction that it shouldn’t be sold all made sense now, but there was still more Hannah wanted to know. ‘Did you work for the doctor and his family?’

‘I did, and lovely they were, too. I was happy there, or as happy as I was going to be, until I married your granddad. I’d go home on a Sunday, and by then, Mam and Da knew Finbar’s intentions. He’d join us for lunch, and afterwards, we’d walk to our cottage.’

Hannah smiled, but then it faltered. ‘How did you come to buy the Shamrock?’

‘The publican retired, and your granddad had a little money squirrelled away; he’d an uncle who never married and left him a tidy sum. He was finally his own man.’

‘And did you never regret staying?’

‘Not for one minute. The grass isn’t always greener, and my roots were here in Emerald Bay. I go to the old cottage whenever I want to feel closer to Finbar. It might sound mad, but I still talk to him.’

‘It doesn’t. I didn’t know you did that, Nan,’ Hannah repeated her earlier sentiment. Her eyes were smarting as she thought of her nan’s shoulders hunched as she made her way to the lonely cottage, sharing her private thoughts with her late husband.

‘Nobody does.’

‘Does he, er, does he talk back?’

‘I might sound mad, Hannah, but I’m not completely around the twist.’

‘Sorry.’ Hannah was thoughtful for a minute or two before speaking up. ‘Thank you for telling me.’

Kitty looked at her granddaughter pensively.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘You’re looking for something, Hannah. You always have been, but sometimes you’ll find what you thought was missing is right there under your nose.’