Oldcourt
MARY LIFTED THE SHOVEL AND BROUGHT IT DOWN AS HARD AS SHE could to break the stones. She did it once more, watching them crack and split as she hit them again and again. Her shoulders, back and arms ached, for she was still not used to such heavy work, but at least she was getting paid for it.
‘A little smaller,’ advised Ellen Clancy, the woman working alongside her.
Mary continued to pound the stones with the shovel and was relieved to see that a few had finally broken up to resemble those in the growing pile in the basket beside her.
‘’Tis the divil of a job but we all need the four pennies,’ sighed Ellen.
She went on to explain what was expected of Mary and showed her how to lift the baskets of stones and rocks as needed.
The foreman walked over to where they were working. Mary could tell that he was watching her, but she kept her eyes down, glued to the ground, for she wanted no trouble with him.
‘He’s gone,’ whispered Ellen a few minutes later, and relief washed over her.
With John sick, Mary desperately needed this work. She had come to the foreman to collect John’s pay but, seeing the other women at work with their backs bent, she had begged him to employ her until John was fit to return. He’d been reluctant at first, but she had won him over by telling him how strong and steady she was and that she would not let him down. Flor and Molly had kindly offered to keep a good eye on her husband and the children in her absence.
The jagged stone was rough and hard and heavy, and soon Mary’s hands were scraped and cut. Her muscles strained as she went from basket to basket. She shivered against the cold, but was glad of the warmth of John’s heavy wool coat; many of the women around had only shawls and rags as scant protection from the elements.
The gang of women and young boys put to work breaking and sorting the stones for the men to use was only small in number. They would only get half pay, but half pay was better than no pay.
‘My husband died four months ago,’ Ellen told her as together they lifted a basket from the cart. ‘It was the saddest day of my life … but I have two little girls to look after and I’ll not see them follow their father.’
Mary was filled with sympathy and admiration for the other woman, who was prepared to work so hard for her children, in much the same way as she was doing for her own family.
‘John, my husband, took sick with road fever three weeks ago,’ she confided to Ellen. ‘He nearly died on me. For six days I didn’t know whether he would live or die, but thank God he survived it. He’s still very weak, so if he can’t work then I will … I’ll break every stone on this road if I have to for the money they pay.’
It was so cold that the women’s breath formed clouds of steam. Mary watched Denis Leary and the other men work, lifting boulders and rocks and layers of stone. A few looked near to collapse as they laboured on.
John had objected to her working, saying the relief works were no place for a woman. Mary did not want to go against his wishes, but she was still strong and prepared to work …
At the end of that first day Mary was footsore and weary, her muscles ached all over and she did not know how she would have the strength to walk home. But the four pence she had earned would ensure that tomorrow her family would not go hungry.