As she had predicted, Mrs. Harrington’s husband worried all through breakfast about the implications that Lord Devereux’s death might have on the McGrother case. The solicitor was only too happy, for once, that their gossipy neighbour had informed his wife of the event the night before.
“I daresay she knew of his passing before he was even aware of it himself,” he laughed.
“Now, now, William, no need for such sarcasm. Mrs. Ashton and her inquisitive nature can be very useful at times. You know how much you hate being taken by surprise. At least this morning you will be well prepared for all those eager bearers of bad news and you can thank our nosey neighbour for that.”
“Indeed I can. In fact, it will be me spreading the gossip for a change. I doubt many will have heard of the old boy’s demise yet, although by mid-morning even the dogs in the street will be aware of it, I daresay.”
“Yes, well, be that as it may, I had better prepare for my meeting with the ladies. We will have to organize a visit on behalf of the committee to pay our condolences to the family,” she kissed her husband on the forehead. “I’m not sure I can meet you for lunch today as planned, William.”
The solicitor assured his wife that his own day may not go according to plan, either, “I shall see you this evening, my dear,” he said. “Give my regards to the ladies.”
There were few people taken by surprise at the news William brought to work with him that day. Although he arrived earlier than usual at his office, the word about Lord Devereux’s passing had already been spread around the town. Not handing over James McGrother’s money had been a sound decision, and the solicitor congratulated himself at having the foresight to delay taking that step. He knew the estate was in debt and even if Pat McGrother’s name was cleared, it would be very difficult to get the money back. With the passing of the old Lord, there would have been no chance of recovering anything owed to the McGrother family.
In a much more positive frame of mind, William called his clerk into the office. He was about to draft a letter to be sent to James and for once it would be good news, in spite of the fact that he would be reminding his client that it was in his best interest to remain in England.
******
Mary could not believe her ears when the letter from Mr. Harrington was read out to her. She made James go over it one more time.
“Bless his heart, do you realize what this means, James? We can all go home now. Isn’t that grand?” Mary looked around the table at her family.
Catherine and Thomas looked at each other with scowls on their faces and James kept his eyes on the headed notepaper in his hand.
“We have work here, Ma. What good would it do to go home? Sure all the money would be gone in no time,” said Thomas.
“I’m not going, ye can all go without me. I’ll stay with Owen and Rose or maybe I could be a live-in domestic,” argued Catherine. “That’s it, I’ll live-in.”
“You’ll do no such thing, you’re barely fifteen, do you think I’m leaving you here on your own?” scolded Mary.
James told the children to go to bed and they could talk about it next day, after Mass, when the news had sunk in properly. Once they had the parlour to themselves, Mary continued to speak about the whole family moving back to Ireland.
“I know how much it would mean to you, love, but Mr. Harrington warned me in the letter not to think about going back, at least not for the present. And Thomas is correct in saying the money wouldn’t last too long if we gave up the work we have here. It’s good to know that we have some savings in Ireland and in time it will make it easier for us to settle back home, but for now, Mary, I think it best we carry on as we had intended. I will keep an eye on Catherine and Thomas.”
“I suppose what you say makes sense, James. I wouldn’t want Armstrong to get his evil hands on you again. Oh why is it that good news always comes with a sacrifice? I don’t ask for much, do I? Is going home with my family too much to hope for?”
James held onto his wife and consoled her, knowing it was her condition that was making her feel so dismal.
“It’s the fragile state you’re in that has you so morose. You were looking forward to seeing Maggie and all the neighbours, that hasn’t changed has it?” he asked.
“No, I still want to see them, but when you read out what the letter said about the money it got my hopes up. Now I feel like the wind’s been taken out of my sails.”
“It won’t be for ever, Mary. Didn’t I promise you that someday we would all be home again?”
“That was after I lost the twins, James. I thought you were saying it to make me feel better, you seem to have settled here much easier than I expected you to,” said Mary. “Anyways, neither of us are very good at keeping our promises, are we?”
“Ah Mary, don’t talk like that or you’ll drag me down with you. If I’m to be truthful, you are sickening for home more than I ever thought you would.”
There was a movement on the stairs and Mary called out to whoever was lurking behind the curtain. Catherine stepped into the room, a look of defiance across her young face.
“I had to make sure ye were not planning on taking me back with ye. Da is talking sense and you need to listen to him, Ma.”
“It’s bad manners to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. Did we not teach you anything? I hope that’s not the way you behave at the doctor’s house,” snapped Mary.
James had gone to stand beside his daughter, “Your Ma is right, Catherine. You shouldn’t have been hiding behind the curtain like that. If you want to know something, ask us to our faces.”
“Da, I already know the answer. You would be gone back to Ireland, quick as a flash, if it weren’t for that constable that hates your guts and if Ma goes over I doubt she’ll ever return. Now, do you have any questions for me – like, where do I want to live? Or do either of you care?”
Catherine’s head was yanked sideways as her mother pulled her by her long braided hair, causing her to lose her balance and stumble towards the fireplace. As the girl’s hand came down onto the hot, iron stove, the sound of skin sizzling was drowned out by her scream. James grabbed hold of his daughter, steering her through the front door and down the street, towards the communal pump, leaving Mary’s apologetic cries behind them.
“Keep it under the water for a few minutes. The pain will lessen after a while,” James pumped the handle until the water flowed.
“It hurts, Da. I’ve never had a burn this bad. Will I be able to work, it’s my good hand?”
James rolled up his sleeves and held out both his arms, turning them slowly. There were scars randomly scattered along the length of his limbs. Catherine had never really paid much heed to them before.
“Try working in the foundry for a week, love. You soon get used to the burns and scalds.”
“Do you hate working there? Is that why you want to go back to Ireland?” asked Catherine.
James pulled down his sleeves and examined the hot, red patch on his daughter’s right palm.
“I’m not like my brothers, Catherine, they would never return home. I think your Aunt Maggie understands me even more than your mother does. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when she refused to come with us, I know how she feels about leaving Ireland. I hope with all my heart that one day your mother and myself will live once again in our old parish and that I will still have the strength to fish on a boat in the bay. As for you and your brother and sisters, I think it will be a long time before you have to decide on where you will live, so let’s not worry too much about it for now. Are we agreed?”
Catherine nodded her head and let her father wrap his arm around her to lead her back to the house. Mary could not look either of them in the eye when they came through the door. She had been tearing up some strips from an old, well boiled sheet to make a bandage for her daughter’s burned palm.
“Let me bind this around your hand, my love. We can show it to Rose in the morning. Oh Catherine, I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you.”
James left them both alone, making an excuse to go up to bed early. Catherine looked at her mother, who was a little smaller in height than herself, and told her she wasn’t bearing any grudges against her for the burn.
“It was an accident, Ma. I tripped. It doesn’t hurt so much now, the cold water took the sting out of it. Da says we should stop fussing about going home for now and wait till the time comes, before worrying over what should be done. But I won’t change my mind about it. I work long, hard days but I’m treated kindly and fed well, and if I play my cards right, I might even become a lady’s maid. Do you see why I can’t go home with ye, Ma?”
Mary nodded as she finished wrapping the cloth around Catherine’s hand. She looked at her almost grown up daughter and smiled. “I forget that you’re nearly a woman, love, with your own dreams and plans. Your Da is right, we should not be arguing over decisions that don’t need to be made yet. Go on up to bed now, or you’ll be falling asleep in Mass tomorrow.”
The sound of a hacking cough from the children’s bedroom overhead drew their attention to the ceiling. As they both looked up, footsteps could be heard crossing the creaky wooden floors.
“Your Da’s gone in to her, she’ll be alright after a good cough and a pat on the back,” said Mary sounding a lot less worried than she actually was.
“Poor Mary-Anne, I’m glad she’s going with you, Ma. She needs the fresh air to help her get better.”
Catherine knew that it was only a matter of time before her father would also be ready to return to his roots. She resolved in her heart there and then, not to allow him talk her into going back. She knew that Thomas would be allowed to stay, because he was a boy and in an apprenticeship that would be impossible to keep up once back in Ireland. Catherine’s only chance was if she could get out of the kitchen, where most of her work took place. She felt sure her mother would agree to her staying in England if she had a better position in the doctor’s household.