HENRIETTA WOULD NEVER GET USED TO THE SIGHT OF SO MANY MEN, women and children waiting patiently at the mill to be fed. Thousands now flocked to the soup kitchen every day, coming from all over West Cork. From Aughadown, Creagh, Kilcoe, Rath, Baltimore, Ballydehob and Union Hall, they swamped the streets, lanes and roads leading to Skibbereen. Some were so weak that they could barely walk.
‘Henrietta, I see we are in the same mind coming to visit here.’ Elizabeth Townsend, the rector’s wife, smiled at her in greeting. ‘It is heartening to see that at long last something is being done to help these poor people.’
‘But it is so bitterly cold, and most of them have no shoes or coats, or even shawls to keep them warm,’ Henrietta sighed, unable to hide her distress.
‘Richard says that they have sold or pawned all they possess in order to buy food. They now face the winter with nothing but rags to wear.’
‘Poor things, they will surely get severe chills and colds with this weather,’ Henrietta said with worry as she looked at a shivering mother, her two little girls and baby boy.
‘Perhaps the women among us could do something to get them some old clothes,’ suggested Elizabeth. ‘An unused dress or shawl for the women, maybe, and trousers, shirts, jackets and dresses for the children to wear. The minute I get home I will look to see if I can find any warm clothing I can pass on to them.’
‘I will search our wardrobes and chests too,’ Henrietta promised. ‘There must surely be something that we have that would prove useful.’
‘Do you think the other wives of the committee and people in town might be interested in organizing such a relief collection of clothing and warm items?’
‘I do hope so. Most people are kind hearted and should be willing to give something.’
‘Many have been very charitable already,’ Elizabeth reminded her gently.
Henrietta felt somewhat guilty, as Elizabeth was a most dedicated and helpful wife to a busy church minister. She, on the other hand, was caught up with running a busy household, taking care of a baby, her young children and the constant stream of patients all anxious to see her husband.
‘Henrietta, will you come to the Glebe to have tea with me tomorrow and we can discuss it further?’
Henrietta had never been invited to their home before, but she knew that their husbands were united in their efforts on the relief committee.
‘Your children are welcome to come along too,’ Elizabeth added.
‘They are noisy and rather troublesome,’ warned Henrietta.
‘I always enjoy having little ones in the rectory,’ coaxed Elizabeth.
Henrietta decided the boys would be better at home, but she dressed up the three girls and baby Margaret and took them along to the rectory with her the following day.
Elizabeth welcomed them into her drawing room warmly.
‘What pretty daughters you and Dan have!’ she said, admiring Fanny and Harriet, who with only a year between them looked almost like twins in their matching pink dresses. ‘They are like two little rosebuds.’
‘Thank you.’ Henrietta knew that it must be difficult for Elizabeth. She and Richard had not been blessed with any family of their own, yet with good grace she had organized many events for the children of the parish over the years, from Bible plays and pageants to the annual Easter party.
Elizabeth rang the bell and her maid, Jane, came along to serve them tea. She also carried a pretty plate of hot buttered scones with jam and a few small slices of cake.
‘Cake! Good-ee!’ shouted Fanny loudly. ‘We are not allowed to eat it at home any more.’
‘Dada doesn’t like it,’ added Harriet sagely.
‘It’s just with the situation at the moment,’ Henrietta tried to explain. ‘He feels that we must not be wasteful or indulgent.’
‘Don’t worry, these days we rarely have such things either,’ Elizabeth admitted. ‘But having you and the girls come to visit gives me a chance to be hospitable.’
‘Well, we very much appreciate the invitation,’ Henrietta replied, helping herself to a scone and some jam.
‘Besides, it is nice for me to have a little company while my husband is away. He and Reverend Caulfield have travelled to London to appeal for assistance on behalf of this district,’ she explained. ‘Richard intends to talk to people at the highest level. He is hopeful of an opportunity to meet Charles Trevelyan and convince him of the urgent necessity for government intervention and support for immediate relief efforts.’
‘Well, I pray that their mission is successful.’
‘All our prayers are with them!’
Henrietta looked enviously around the neat drawing room, which was a haven of peace. There were shelves filled with books, a piano, and Elizabeth’s embroidery hoop lay on a side table.
‘Do you embroider?’ her host asked, following Henrietta’s gaze.
‘No, I am afraid that I am all fingers and thumbs.’
‘At night I find it relaxing to sit by the fire and embroider while Richard writes his sermons or does some parish work.’
The children, curious, had ventured over to the piano.
‘Do the girls play?’
‘No, I’m afraid we don’t have one,’ she told her regretfully.
‘Richard and I both play a little.’ Elizabeth smiled. ‘I find that music is good for the soul.’
Elizabeth crossed the room to the instrument and demonstrated to Harriet and Fanny how to play a few notes. She encouraged Harriet to sit at the piano stool and guided her in touching the keys gently to produce a scale. Delighted, the girls played away. Their playing was tuneless but their enjoyment was evident as they ran their fingers up and down the black and white keys.
Jane came into the room with more tea. She was a pretty little thing, not more than fifteen years old, with fair hair and a pert nose.
‘Will I bring more cake, ma’am?’
‘Yes, please. Finely cut for my young guests.’
Jane nodded and left the room.
‘Although she is young, she is proving to be a fine maid,’ Henrietta’s host confided. ‘And Kate, our cook, is happy to have young Jane here to assist her.’
On her return, the maid offered to take baby Margaret and the children for a while so that the two women could talk in peace about their plan to ask the wives of the committee members and other friends to consider a clothing appeal. The baby settled happily in Jane’s arms as she shepherded the other girls down to the kitchen.
‘I have already unearthed almost a box of clothes that neither Richard nor I need any longer, which we intend to donate,’ Elizabeth began.
‘I found two coats – one of mine and one of my husband’s – and a boys’ jacket, some clothes from our son Daniel that I can give, and I’m sure I have some warm stockings and a dress or two that the girls no longer need, and three pairs of sturdy boots.’
‘Well done, Henrietta, for I’m sure that, like many large families, most of the clothes get passed down between the children, much as my own parents did.’
‘Mostly, but I still managed to find a few items that hopefully will be useful. And I’m intent on finding more.’
‘We have not been idle but must ask others to join us,’ Elizabeth said, taking out a sheet of paper and starting to write a list of names that they should each approach.
‘I have so enjoyed our visit,’ thanked Henrietta, as she and the children got ready to leave. It had turned bitterly cold outside so she buttoned up the children’s coats and wrapped their scarves around them tightly.
Elizabeth smiled. ‘You are welcome here any time.’
‘The next time, perhaps you will come and visit me. Though I’m afraid our home will certainly not be as quiet and peaceful as yours.’
‘I will look forward to it,’ said the rector’s wife graciously as she bid goodbye to Henrietta and the children.
‘Mama!’ called Harriet and Fanny excitedly, as they ran outside. ‘Look, it’s snowing!’
Snowflakes tumbled from the sky like feathers, whirling and swirling all around them. The children held out their hands to catch them as they walked back to New Street. The falling snow continued all through the long night and by morning had blanketed the streets and lanes, roads and fields and entire countryside with thick, deep, white cover.