THE FALLEN SNOW LAY DEEP AND HEAVY ON THE GROUND. HENRIETTA laced up her boots and grabbed her heavy wool coat. She pulled on her hat, gloves and scarf as she set off to brave the elements, for there were some errands she needed to run.
The streets of Skibbereen were icy, and the hungry who were sheltering from the cold in doorways and gateways begged and pulled at every passer-by for food or money. A small group of them were hunkered down near the Donovans’ doorway.
‘Bit of food, ma’am, for the hungry?’ pleaded a stick-thin man with his wife and two boys.
‘I’m sorry but I have no food on me,’ she apologized, moved by their plight as she eased her way past them gently as they called after her. How these poor families could endure such weather, dressed only in tattered rags with their feet bare, shamed her. Dan was run ragged looking after such people day after day, and always showed such constant care and consideration for them that it made her love and admire him even more.
She had made a list, for she had to purchase some necessary household items. She would dearly love to order a new dress to see her through the winter and Christmas season but Dan, she knew, would not countenance such extravagance, especially in the face of the distress suffered by their fellow man.
As she had sorted through clothes to donate, she had realized that young Dan was in sore need of breeches, shirts and a new warm jacket, for he had outgrown his infant clothes and was becoming quite a little boy! Her husband could not expect her to dress their small son in the worn hand-me-downs of his two brothers.
She also needed desperately to purchase a book. She got bored being at home so much, and longed to read the latest work of Mr Dickens if it were available. She also was in need of writing paper and some ink of her own, for Dan was forever at his desk writing letters. She dearly wanted to correspond with her family and friends, and to hear some good news, if there were any.
Groups of the poor and hungry huddled together everywhere – in the doorway of the bank, outside the Becher Arms, near the brewery – trying to escape the bitter cold. A small boy tugged at her coat like a frightened sparrow. He held out the palm of his hand, too tired even to say a word. His face was covered with a downy layer of hair.
Poor child! She reached into her pocket and produced a penny, which she handed to him in silence, then watched him scurry away, no doubt to spend it immediately.
At the stationer’s she collected the new pen that she had ordered for Dan and some writing paper and ink. One part of the shop held newspapers, periodicals and a small display of books, which she browsed. There were a few of Maria Edgeworth’s books and she was drawn to the latest work of Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, which she decided to purchase. It would definitely hold her attention and might even interest Dan.
She then moved on to Hayes’ drapery on Main Street to purchase clothing for young Daniel: three pairs of breeches, three shirts, a warm navy wool coat, some undergarments and woollen socks.
‘A growing boy, Mrs Donovan.’ Mr Hayes laughed as he parcelled them up. ‘Anything that doesn’t fit the young lad, just return them and we’ll find something more suitable.’
Normally, Henrietta enjoyed looking around the shops, but it was far too cold to dawdle. She had just turned off Market Lane when she almost tripped over a woman sitting on the icy ground. The woman’s legs were outstretched and she held a baby in her arms. Dressed only in a threadbare shift, Henrietta could see her bare breasts and skinny torso, her shoulder bones and ribs clearly visible. Her legs were like mottled sticks, and her feet were swollen and dirty.
The baby lay crookedly in her arms, when the woman pitched forward suddenly. Overcome with pity, Henrietta rushed to prevent her from falling to the ground and tried to save the small baby that was wrapped in a filthy bit of blanket.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked, alarmed by the woman’s condition.
The woman said nothing but leaned back and tried to straighten herself up.
‘I am weak with the hunger,’ she whispered.
Henrietta was filled with concern for her and was about to hand the child back when she realized how still it was. A terrible fear gripped her when she gazed down and saw that the small face was waxy, the skin almost translucent, with a blue sheen around its delicate lips and closed eyes. The child was stone cold, dead, all the life gone from it. No matter what Henrietta did, there was no saving this child.
The mother’s hands reached out for her baby and Henrietta passed her the infant. She felt a strange chill inside her own heart and did not know what to say to this poor mother. Was she aware of what had happened?
‘You must stay here,’ she begged the woman. ‘I am going to get some help for you.’
She took off so quickly that she nearly lost her footing on the ice.
All she wanted was to find Dan and get him to help this unfortunate woman and her child. She had no idea what to do but Dan would know. She gasped as she ran home, trying not to cry as she thought of the poor frozen baby.
Dan was sitting at his desk, writing, puzzled by her disturbance.
‘Dan, you must come with me quickly. Get your coat and hat!’ she pleaded. ‘There is a woman on the street with a dead child in her arms. We have to help her.’
In a matter of minutes Dan was making his way with Henrietta to the street where the woman still sat with her eyes closed, one hand outstretched, the child still in her arms.
‘I brought my husband,’ Henrietta explained.
‘I am a doctor,’ Dan said gently, kneeling down beside the woman. ‘This lady is my wife and she was concerned for your child. May I take a look, please?’
Wordlessly, the woman passed the bundle into Dan’s arms.
Dan looked carefully at the lifeless baby before turning his attention to the mother.
‘I’m afraid that your baby is very poorly and you yourself are very weak. The best thing I can advise is that you be admitted immediately to the Union workhouse. I am the medical officer there. I will arrange it. Have you any family?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Everyone died these past weeks.’
‘As you are in a weakened state, I will fetch my horse and carriage and bring you myself.’
Tears of relief slid down the woman’s exhausted face and Henrietta tried to control her own emotions in the face of her husband’s kindness.
‘My wife will stay with you for a few minutes while I go and fetch it.’
Henrietta crouched beside the woman, aware that the few people who passed them averted their gaze as they did not want to be accosted or get involved. She unwound her own knitted scarf from her neck and arranged it gently around the woman’s shoulders, covering the child.
The day was growing ever colder. On Dan’s return she assisted him in helping the woman – who had told her that her name was Catherine Driscoll – and her baby up into the carriage.
‘Will I come with you?’ Henrietta offered.
‘No, my dear, it is better you return home,’ Dan said softly. ‘I will take care of Mrs Driscoll and ensure that she is admitted and looked after.’
Back at home, Henrietta fed the children and, despite her worry and distraction, prepared them for bed. They said their prayers and she read a story to them from the Bible. The younger ones’ preference was for Noah’s ark or Daniel in the lions’ den. As she hugged their warm bodies, brushed their curling hair and tucked them in their beds, she prayed for God to keep all the children in the town safe and well that night.
‘How is Mrs Driscoll?’ she probed as Dan ate his meal that evening.
‘Poorly, for she has typhus.’
‘What about the baby?’
‘Nurse Lynch managed to get her to give up the infant. She told her that it was with the rest of her family in heaven.’
‘Oh, that poor woman. How could such a terrible thing happen, Dan?’
‘Please, my dear, you must not distress yourself.’
‘Of course I must distress myself. Witnessing what happened to that mother and her baby is something that I will never forget …’ She tried to keep the growing sense of hysteria she was feeling from her voice. ‘That woman lost her only living child.’
Dan ate his food slowly and meticulously.
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized. ‘I know this is what you see every day, but Dan, how can you bear it?’
‘Henrietta, it is my duty. And besides, I have you and the children to consider.’
As she lay in his arms before sleep, Daniel soothed his wife and tried to calm her fears.
‘Everything will be well soon,’ he promised, treating her like a child.
Her dreams that night were haunted by Catherine Driscoll and her baby, and she could not put them from her mind, despite her best efforts.
The following day she enquired about Mrs Driscoll’s health. Dan said little, only that she was ill in the fever ward. Three days later he broke the news that she had succumbed to typhus and would be buried with her child.
‘You mean they will both be in the pit in Abbeystrewery graveyard?’ Henrietta demanded angrily.
‘Yes, such are the daily burials,’ he said quietly. ‘But take comfort in the fact that they are both united in the afterlife, away from this torment.’
‘It is small comfort, Dan, for I would far prefer to see her happy with her child, walking the streets of Skibbereen with her head held high, than lying in that cold place.’
That afternoon she lay down on their bed and cried, pulling the blankets around her as the snow began to fall again. A deep weariness possessed her, which she could not shake off and so gave in to sleep.
Hours later she awoke from her slumber. She had slept for so long that she had missed tea and putting the children to bed. She chastised herself! How could she do such a thing when she was a strong young woman, with a husband and family who needed her? Dan deserved a better wife, one who was resolute and steady, who could be relied upon and who would be a constant support to him and his work.
She stretched and got up, re-buttoned her dress and fixed her dark wavy hair. She dabbed a little lavender water on her wrists and neck before slipping on her shoes and making her way downstairs to join her husband who was sitting at the fire.
‘I told Sally to tend to the children and let you rest,’ he said gently.
His kindness near overwhelmed her and she felt close to tears again.
‘It’s all right, Hetty dearest.’ Dan got up and wrapped his arms around her. ‘I am here with you, and I promise that you have nothing to fear. I will always guard and protect you and our children.’
She could hear in his voice the care, concern and love that had always been between them. Without a word, Henrietta found herself sitting beside him, her head on his shoulder, watching the flames flicker in the grate.
‘I am better now,’ she said a long while later.
‘Good,’ he said, reaching for her. ‘For you know that I cannot bear to see you so upset.’