The Girl from Galloway: A stunning historical novel of love, family and overcoming the odds. Anne DoughtyЧитать онлайн книгу.
place in a remote westerly corner of Ireland, with few prospects of work, or betterment, and no one apart from their ill-provided parents concerned for them. How could she turn her back on them any more than Daniel had, if there was anything she could do to help?
At the end of playtime, when Marie rose to go back to work, Hannah decided she needed some time to herself. She had not intended to stay so long and had brought no piece to eat. If she went back home she could have a bite by the fireside, and come back in time for Daniel’s story, which always ended the school day.
She was concerned that neither Marie nor Daniel had had anything to eat themselves, but when she mentioned it to Daniel he explained that he preferred his piece after playtime, while Marie was at work with the children. Marie, he explained, would have a cooked meal waiting for her at her mother’s house as soon as school ended, so she only brought food when her mother was away staying with one of her sisters.
One thing was very clear to Hannah as she walked back home to Ardtur and stirred up the dying fire – and that was how well Daniel and Marie worked together. She tried to remember how long it was now since they had begun their work. She counted on her fingers. Rose had been six and Sam not quite five. Rose was now nine and Sam just eight, so it was three years ago.
Perhaps she had thought it was longer because the children going to school seemed such a permanent part of their life, like the visits of the draper from Creeslough who collected her needlework, or their walks up to see Patrick’s Aunt Mary, ‘over the hill’ in Drumnalifferny, or her own visits to the much older couple she had met in Ramelton. The wife had once lived in Dundrennan, though that was long before Hannah was born.
It was when Hannah stood up to go and wash her mug and plate that she noticed the two envelopes on the table. One had been delivered by hand and she recognised the familiar brown envelope without needing to open it. It was the quarterly request for rent. The other envelope had a Scottish postmark and was addressed to Mr Patrick McGinley. The writing was just as familiar as the style and shape of the brown envelope had been. She picked it up and looked at it closely, her eyes filling with tears, staring at it as if there was something the envelope itself could tell her. But she already knew what the letter would say. It always said exactly the same thing.
Her father was sending the money for the boat fares to Scotland, a sum that would be repaid in weekly instalments from the wages of the team of labourers through the next six or seven months. Patrick would organise their departure within the week. He would not return until the autumn. She felt lonely already.
She washed her mug and plate, cut some slices of soda bread and wrapped them up for Daniel, then wandered round the room as if she had forgotten something. But it was nothing she could put a name to, just a feeling that she was soon to be alone and would have to make up her own mind what to do next.
Marie was not getting married till Easter, still a few weeks away, but it would help both Marie and Daniel if she could decide what she was going to do before Patrick and his team had to make their way to Derry for the boat.
*
She walked slowly back along the familiar track, savouring the first truly spring-like day of the year. The birds were active, darting around in the bushes, taking off and landing in some random activity she could not explain. Somewhere a blackbird was singing. She was almost sure the hawthorns were greener than they’d been in the morning and the sun was now high in a completely blue sky. How often one could look back up at the mountain and see its rugged outline without even a wisp of cloud.
‘A pet day’ Aunt Mary would call today. A gift to be cherished but not to be expected, something that might not come again, or at least not for a few more weeks.
She gathered her thoughts. What had not been mentioned in any of their talks yet was the question of payment. Clearly Marie did receive a salary, but how much, and when, she did not know. She did know that Rose and Sam took their two pennies each week along with their pieces of turf for the fire every Friday morning, but she guessed that some of the other children would be irregular in their payments. They might indeed bring extra turf, or some potatoes, or meal, but actual money might not always be available. What she could be sure of was that Daniel would not turn any pupil away because they hadn’t brought their pennies.
There was no one sitting on the stone bench as she walked up the slope and all was silent as she approached the open door of the cottage. She paused and listened and after a few moments she heard Daniel’s voice. It was a mere whisper, but within moments she found that it was the voice of a Fairy Queen coming to the aid of a princess locked up in a tower in a dark forest. Even here, outside the door, she could hear every word clearly for there was no sound whatever from any of the pupils.
At the end of the story there were cheers, then the scrape of feet on the floor, as the class stood up to recite a blessing, a protection for the dark hours of the night until the dawn came again. She heard the ‘Goodbyes’ to both Daniel and Marie, as they began to spill out into the dazzling sunshine, going off in both directions, up and down the rough track towards the scattered groups of cottages where they lived.
‘Hello, Ma. Have you come back for us?’ demanded Sam, the moment he set eyes on her.
‘No, of course not,’ replied Rose quickly. ‘We can go home by ourselves, Sam. Haven’t we been doing that for all of this year?’ she said, looking at Hannah for agreement.
‘Yes, of course you can go home by yourselves,’ agreed Hannah, giving them each a hug, ‘but that’s when I’m at home waiting for you. Today, I’m here, because I need to talk a bit more to your teachers. We can all go home together. I’m sure Miss McGee would let you go and look at the books while I’m busy.’
Rose nodded promptly. Clearly, she thought that was a good idea. Sam was less enthusiastic, but at a nod and an encouraging smile from Hannah, he followed Rose back into the cottage, just as Daniel was coming out to greet her.
‘Ah, Hannah, you’ve come back. I thought maybe you’d had enough of school for one day!’
‘No, Daniel, not a bit of it. I needed a bite to eat and I knew the fire would need making up. I think I’ve a few more questions to ask.’
‘Well, ask away, for you know you’ll only get honest answers, even if it’s not to my advantage,’ he said, as he sat down at the far end of the stone bench to leave room for her.
Hannah couldn’t bear the thought of Daniel being at any disadvantage after the splendid account she’d had of what they’d managed to do for this handful of children. But clearly, Daniel had already faced that possibility and what he said next restored her hope.
‘When I first thought of running a school, you may remember a good friend of mine suggested I went round the local gentry and asked them if they could help out,’ he said, looking at her directly.
She certainly remembered now that she had encouraged him but she’d forgotten that it was her who suggested he ask their local gentry for help. She’d written letters on his behalf to the charitable organisations active in the county, who might give some support. She’d also made a list of children in Ardtur and the adjoining townlands who might become his pupils, so that he could speak to the parents and see what help might be forthcoming from them.
‘I was treated kindly enough but what I collected up wasn’t a large sum. In the end it was only enough to get started. A few benches and desks and exercise books and such like. But all that money is gone now,’ he went on matter-of-factly. ‘When Marie first thought of helping me, we added up the pennies the children brought each week and to begin with, that made a salary for her.
‘Not surprisingly,’ he went on wryly, ‘it proved to be irregular through no fault of the parents, so I had to add to it from some small savings I had,’ he said, speaking in the same steady tone he’d used all day. ‘Those savings are almost gone and the pension I’ve had for many years from my half-brother is now in some doubt. If that goes, I won’t be able to pay my own rent, never mind find a salary for an assistant,’ he went on quickly, with a short laugh. ‘Probably, we did well to manage for as long as we did, but now I need