DAN’S BREATH FORMED ICY CLOUDS IN THE COLD AIR AS HE DROVE OUT to Lough Hyne. He was thankful for his heavy grey coat and Henrietta’s gift of a knitted scarf and gloves to keep him warm, as it was near freezing outside. He was on his way to see Daniel McCarthy’s wife after his fellow committee member had stopped him at the end of Monday’s meeting and asked him to pay her a visit.
McCarthy’s voice had been filled with concern. ‘I don’t like asking you to come out so far with this bad weather, but she is tired all the time, and her legs and feet these past days are badly swollen.’
Dan knew the worry of having a sick wife and had agreed immediately to see Mary McCarthy.
He turned his horse off the main road and took a small winding track down through the green forest that led down towards Lough Hyne. The ancient saltwater lake was a place of stunning beauty. Shaped like a bowl and surrounded by tall trees and steep rocks, its crystal-clear waters contained fish like you’d never seen before. It was a wondrous place.
The track began to slope suddenly, and grew slippery with ice. Dan soothed his mare as she began to lose her footing on the steep descent. He stopped for a minute, got down from the trap and began to lead the horse instead.
The McCarthys’ large house with its magnificent view of the lough came into view, but he also became aware of a group of men working down at the edge of the water. Surely they were not doing works in this appalling weather?
As the ground levelled off, he climbed back into the trap and continued towards the house. He watched in disbelief as men in rags stood partially immersed in the freezing water, lifting heavy stones, shivering and shaking with the wet and cold. They were building some kind of sea wall in the rapids at the edge of the lough.
‘What is going on here?’ he demanded, slowing the horse and coming to a halt.
‘We are part of the public works scheme,’ replied the foreman, a tall fellow in a warm, heavily-lined coat. ‘The men are building a wall here.’
‘The men cannot work in such conditions,’ Dan said, getting down. ‘You can see how poorly clad they are. I am the Union physician and I am telling you that these men will meet their end if they continue to stand in the water like that. Tell them to come out. This is no work for such men in this weather.’
‘If they want to get paid their eight pennies they will work,’ the foreman replied stubbornly.
The men could hear the argument but kept their heads low, not wanting to cause a disturbance.
‘I order you to take these men from the water immediately,’ Dan countered firmly. ‘I will check on them on my way home.’
The uselessness of the situation assailed him, as did the absolute folly of the public works. He had protested about them so much already and this despicable display of lunacy would no doubt cost lives.
He turned into the avenue leading to the McCarthys’ home. The maid showed him to the drawing room where McCarthy greeted him and offered him a warm drink.
‘Did you see the men working down at the lough?’ the doctor demanded of his host.
‘Aye, they’ve been working there these past two months on a public works scheme to improve the lough.’
‘Are you telling me that these men have been working that long in this terrible snow and the cold?’
‘Yes, I protested to the county supervisor, Mr Treacy, and Major Parker,’ McCarthy said angrily, ‘but to no avail. Wrixon Becher is the landlord here and owns most of the land around the lough. Even this house of mine is part of Lord Carbery’s estate, so there is little I can do. Believe me, Dan, it upsets my wife and me to see them treated so.’
‘How is your good lady?’
‘To be honest, I am worried for her.’
‘Let me see her.’
‘She is upstairs. I’ll ask Peggy to tell her that you are here.’
‘I will see her upstairs if I may.’
‘Of course.’
Peggy, the maid, led him up to the enormous bedroom, which was lavishly furnished and had a breathtaking view of Lough Hyne.
Mary McCarthy sat at the window in a loose gown.
‘Dr Dan, thank you so much for coming all this way to see me. I feel foolish dragging you out here, but my husband insisted.’
Dan could see immediately that Mary’s hands were swollen, as were her feet. She had a slightly puffy look about her, which some women develop in late pregnancy. But Mrs McCarthy was not that far along.
‘Will you sit on the bed and let me examine you?’ he asked politely. ‘Is there any sign of cough or fever?’
‘Of course. And no, my husband insists that I stay away from town lest I catch something.’
‘He is probably right, Mrs McCarthy. You have a lovely comfortable home here, where I believe you should rest.’
‘Rest?’
‘Your child is not due for another few months, but I think you should do little until it is time for your confinement, which may be a bit sooner than we expected. The baby is growing fast.’
She sighed. ‘I feel like I am very big and heavy.’
‘I want you to get as much bed rest as you can, here at home. No gallivanting into town or carriage rides,’ he said sternly.
‘Yes,’ she mumbled. ‘I will stay home.’
‘Good,’ he said, satisfied.
He did not want to say anything more at this stage, but he was concerned by her size. He worried that either there was something amiss with the baby or that there was the possibility that she could be carrying twins.
‘I will visit you again in two or three weeks.’
‘Thank you for coming, Dan. I know how busy you are with other, far more important things in town,’ she said, her blue eyes filled with gratitude.
Back downstairs, over tea, Dr Donovan explained the situation to her worried husband and told him to ensure his wife had bed rest. He was to send for him immediately should there be any sudden change in her condition.
Peggy offered Dan a plate of scones. He was not hungry but asked if she minded if he took one for later.
‘Take two,’ encouraged McCarthy. ‘You won’t get the like of them in the workhouse.’
It began to sleet as Dan climbed into the trap and guided the horse slowly back down the avenue towards the lough, where the men were still working in the water. It was unbearable to watch.
One poor fellow looked blue with the cold. Every vein on his skeletal frame stood out. His teeth were chattering and his entire body was overcome with shivers and shakes.
‘I told you to stop this work,’ Dan bellowed, approaching the foreman. ‘I will complain about the inhumane treatment of these men when I get to Skibbereen. Mark my words.’
The foreman shrugged, uncaring.
‘These public works schemes are all due to shut down soon,’ Dan warned the bully of a man, ‘and your role here will be well remembered in the district.’
The fellow grew visibly uncomfortable at Dan’s threat.
‘Get that man out of the water,’ Dan continued. ‘I am taking him with me, for he is too unwell to walk home. But first you must pay him for the work he has done.’
Muttering and complaining as the other workers looked on, the foreman reluctantly tossed the man a few pennies.
Dan helped his patient into the trap. He handed him the rough towel he kept for the horse and made him dry himself off with it then wrap the rug around his shivering body.
The climb back towards the main road, away from the lake, was desperately steep and the horse struggled. Dan walked beside her, calmly urging her along the slippery surface. Heaven knew how the weak men managed to make such a trek after working all day down at the lough.
The old man lived alone only a mile away. He neither spoke nor stirred the whole way home. There was not a scrap of clothing left in the small dirty cabin and so Dan left him with the warm rug from the trap, though he knew Henrietta would scold him over it. He also took out the scones and placed them near him.
‘Thank you, doctor,’ the man said weakly, his eyes welling with tears.
‘In a while, when you are warmed through and feel better, eat those, little by little,’ Dan ordered gently. ‘You must not return to that work. I will call to see you again in a day or two.’