A year later, on Easter Monday, Rose and John took the four children up to Todd’s field, a steeply sloping meadow where generations of children had trundled their Easter eggs. It was a wild, blowy April day, full of great towering white clouds, but there was no cold in the breeze that caught Rose’s skirts and threw Hannah’s long dark hair across her eyes.
‘What’s the prize, Ma?’ said James, as she opened her bag and handed them each a hard-boiled egg.
‘It’s a surprise,’ she said, laughing.
‘They’re yellow, Ma. How did you do that?’ asked Sarah, as she examined her egg carefully, her brow furrowed in concentration.
‘James and Sam collected whin blossom for me over in Robinson’s bog,’ Rose began, ‘where the rocks break through at the far end. They got a few scratches between them,’ she said laughing again and turning to the boys as they eyed the slope. ‘It takes a lot of blossom to fill a can.’
‘That’s right,’ said John, looking down at her. ‘Same as last year, but they were brown then.’
‘That was tea leaves,’ she said firmly.
All around them children were rolling their eggs down the steep slope, the air full of cries of triumph or despair.
‘Now remember,’ said John, ‘not too hard. And don’t throw. Only whole eggs win prizes.’ he said, settling himself on the grass beside Rose.
‘Best of three, Da,’ said Sam.
‘Best of three, it is then,’ he agreed, taking four small pieces of stick from his pockets. ‘Whose doing marker?’
‘I am,’ said Hannah, ‘Sam did it last year and James the year before.’
‘Right then, off you go.’
They sat for a while, watching the four children organise themselves and pick a spot where their eggs wouldn’t collide with anyone else’s as they rolled down the slope. James gave the signal and all four children launched their eggs downhill, running after them and encouraging them as they slowed down.
‘James has got tall, hasn’t he?’ said John, as they watched him come back up the slope.
‘And he looks more like you every day,’ she replied, as she saw him stoop to pick up a small child who’d fallen over.
‘Who’s Sarah like?’ he asked suddenly, as he watched her retrieve her unbroken egg from a clump of grass.
‘Like herself, I think,’ she replied. ‘She’s nearly as tall as Hannah and she’s only six in June. She’s already passed Sam at school, in reading anyway.’
There was a whoop of glee from the slope as Sam’s egg far outstripped anyone else’s on the second throw. Hannah looked crossly at her own egg and went and changed Sam’s marker.
‘They seem so happy here, Rose. Are we right, d’you think, to take them away?’
‘If I were sure they’d go on being happy, I might say no. But it’s not just for the children that we’re going. You’ve had a good year, I know, and not been ill again, but we can’t depend on that. And there’s your hearing to think of as well. Sometimes by Saturday you can’t hear me properly if you’ve had a lot of work indoors.’
‘Aye, you’re right. There’s times I coulden stick it at all if I thought there was no end to it,’ he admitted, turning his head away to look out over the green countryside in the direction of Cannon Hill, where the obelisk was just visible in the clear light.
‘How are we doin’ with the money?’
‘Better than I expected. I planned to save so much a week, all being well. Then I deducted a bit for emergencies, but we haven’t had any, thank God. We’ve the full passage money and a bit more. The summer should give us all I’d allowed for.’
‘So, we’d be lookin’ at September?’
‘All being well, yes.’
A huge cheer went up from the slope below. Sarah had outstripped them all on the third roll. Hannah had her turn and fell short in a clump of grass, the boys did their best, but Sam’s egg hit a stone, and James’s just failed to match Sarah’s carefully planned effort on the smoothest piece of slope she could find.
Rose and John clapped hard and as the children raced back up the slope towards them. Rose brought out the buttered scones and the bag of sweets she’d brought for a prize.
‘Eggs first,’ she said, as she held out a paper bag for the discarded yellow shells. ‘Here you are, Sarah. Well done,’ she said, giving her a kiss and handing her the bag of sweets.
Sarah beamed with delight, opened the bag and peered inside.
‘You first, Ma. Then Da,’ she said, as she held out the bag towards them.
‘That was a great day, Rose. I wish we had more like it,’ John said wistfully, as they sat by the fire in the quiet hour they so enjoyed before they themselves went to their early bed.
‘I was thinking we might take them to the seaside in June,’ she said quietly.
‘And how would we do that?’ he asked.
‘I hear the Methodists are planning an excursion to Warrenpoint. The children were told about it in school. Everyone’s welcome, though I think the Methodist children go free. They say it’ll be a shilling each, but we’ve done so well, we could manage it. The biggest expense would be your losing a day’s pay, but I’d love us to go. Sure, when did you and I last see the sea?’
‘A brave while ago, now Rose.’
‘Maybe if we’re planning to cross the ocean, it would be a good thing to take them to the sea,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Though Warrepoint’s hardly the Atlantic,’ he went on. ‘It’s better than nothin’. I’ll certainly ask for the day off. Is the date settled yet?’
‘Yes, it is. Twelfth of June,’ she said with a little smile.
‘Ach is it? Your birthday and Sarah’s,’ he said, delighted. ‘Sure, wouldn’t it be worth a week or two’s savings for such a big day. That’s settled then. I’ll put in a word with the foreman tomorrow.’
Two weeks before the ‘big day’, as all the family came to call it, she bought the tickets from the young Methodist Sunday School teacher in her drapers in English Street. An old friend, she’d been buying her fabric and trimmings from him since he’d begun to serve his time.
‘Good news, Mrs Hamilton,’ he said, as he took the small rectangles of cardboard from a box under the counter. ‘They’ve dropped the price to tenpence and children are going for half. A few more pennies for ice-cream and rock,’ he added, as he counted out the tickets.
‘That is good news,’ she said warmly. ‘I really had to think twice about it. Six shillings is a lot of money.’
‘You’re right there,’ he agreed. ‘I think many people felt the same. It’s been non-stop since the price came down. This is my third box of tickets and I’ll have to ask my superintendent for more. They’re nearly gone. Let’s hope we get a lovely day, there’s been a right few wet ones recently.’
The tickets were viewed excitedly when she got home. Sarah insisted in reading every word of print aloud, wanting to know what Non-transferable meant and why it said Available only on day of issue. Hannah asked if there was going to be a band. She’d heard the Methodists had engaged The Royal Irish Fusiliers to walk them to the station. James and Sam asked if they could go and see the engine before they left.
She did her best to answer their questions, make appropriate promises, and keep their excitement within bounds. She was anxious lest they be sadly disappointed, but it was she herself who had the biggest disappointment before the day came.
‘No go, I’m afeerd, Rose,’ said John, the previous Friday evening, as he handed her the envelope with his wages. ‘Yer man was sorry himself, said his own wee ones was goin’ with his missus, but there’s two new looms goin’ in that day, so I have to be there,’ he said sadly. ‘Now don’t worry about the new looms,’ he went on quickly, when he saw the look on her face. ‘Two looms is only a few hours work, an’ sure it’s summer. I’ll not take any harm, I promise you. But I’m sorry I can’t come. Can ye get a refund for the ticket and have a few more ice-creams?’ he suggested, trying to put a good face on it.
Rose hid her own disappointment. She wasn’t going to spoil the biggest outing the children had ever had. She entered into all their plans, discussed what they would take in their bag of food, whether they would have to wear their shoes or not and how early they’d have to get up to be in good time for the ten o’clock departure.
In the event, all the children were awake before she and John had stirred at half past six and they were all ready to leave by eight o’clock.
‘Go and say hello to Thomas,’ she said, wanting a few minutes by herself to collect her thoughts.
She stood in the middle of the kitchen, trying to think what she might have forgotten. The tickets were safe in her purse with some money. Hannah and Sam had already taken charge of the two bags of food.
‘Of course,’ she said, bending down to the fire and beginning to rake the hot embers to the centre. ‘Not a good idea to come home to no fire when we’re all tired and wanting a cup of tea,’ she said to herself, as she covered the hot embers and made sure they were thoroughly damped down.
She got up, brushed the fine flecks of dust from her best skirt and went and looked at herself in the bedroom mirror.
‘Happy birthday, Rose,’ she said, as she tidied away a few stray threads of hair and adjusted the stand up collar of her blouse.
She touched the little brooch her mother had pinned inside the blouse she was making for her when she died. A simple brooch. More of a pin really. A thin bar of gold supporting a single red stone. It looked so pretty against the white of her finest cambric blouse.
‘Thirty-six, today, and no grey hairs yet,’ she said aloud, laughing at herself as she put her comb in her bag, checked that she had handkerchief as well as purse and went to collect the children from the forge.
Although it was not yet nine o’clock, the station was full of people. Traps and carts were arriving every few minutes and dropping families and little groups of friends. There was a long queue at the ticket office. Some people must have decided at the last minute when they saw how glorious the day was going to be.
Rose had never seen so many people she knew all in one place, not even at church.
‘Ma, when’s the band coming?’ asked Sarah.
‘Can we go up and see the engine first?’ James countered.
She looked at the station clock and reckoned that the Methodists would hardly leave their hall in Abbey Street before nine-thirty for the walk to the station.
‘Yes, we’ll go and see the engine now. Then we’ll come back here for the band. All right?’
To her surprise, a long row of carriages was already standing at the platform and she had to give up their tickets to get through the barrier. But the collector promised they could have them back again if they wanted to see the band.
‘Isn’t it a long train,’ said Sarah, eyeing the carriages, some of which were already occupied. ‘It wouldn’t go without us, would it?’ she added anxiously, as they walked along the platform.
‘Can’t go anywhere without steam, Sarah,’ James said, reassuringly as they came level with the engine.
Sitting in the dazzling sunshine beyond the shelter of the roof that arced over the platform, the engine gleamed in the sun. Rose looked from James to Sam, anticipating the pleasure John had so often told her about after one of their visits to the engine sheds on his Saturday half day.
To her surprise, they said nothing and stood watching the driver and the fireman who were talking together, it being far too soon to raise steam.
‘It’s a very handsome engine isn’t it?’ she asked, as the boys bent down to study the wheels.
‘Yes,’ said James, thoughtfully, ‘but it’s not very big.’
‘Maybe they’re goin’ to bank it,’ suggested Sam.
‘What’s that mean?’ said Sarah sharply.
‘They put another engine at the other end to push it up the hills,’ explained James. ‘You often see two engines with goods trains.’
‘But there aren’t any hills on a railway line, are there Ma?’ said Hannah.
Rose hadn’t thought about that one. She looked at James.
‘Are there hills?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but they don’t look like hills,’ he replied steadily. ‘They’re called gradients. The Warrenpoint line has some steep ones, much steeper than on the line we see going to Portadown and Belfast.’
‘Can we go back to hear the band now, Ma?’ Hannah asked, as she saw Sam take out his notebook and write down the number of the engine.
Just at that moment, the driver caught sight of them. He leant down from his cab and smiled at the little group inspecting his engine.
‘Good mornin’ ma’m. Lovely day for your excursion,’ he said amiably.
‘Yes, indeed,’ Rose replied. ‘My boys are admiring your engine.’
‘Aye, a great wee engine. Have ye got her number, lads?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
When they said their goodbyes, she was grateful to walk back under the shade of the platform roof. She was beginning to feel very hot indeed standing in the sun, the light reflecting back from the engine and the acres of railway lines that crossed and recrossed outside the station.
The platform had filled up and they had some difficulty passing through a crowd of dignitaries milling around outside the only first class carriage on the train. From some distance away, they could hear the sound of the band.
‘Ma, the train’s near full. If we don’t get in, we’ll not get seats,’ said James, surveying the carriages as they passed.
‘There’s Aunty Mary,’ cried Sarah, waving her hand at a familiar figure four or five carriages away. Mary turned as she lifted young William up into a carriage and beckoned to them to join her.
‘There’s space here, Ma,’ said James firmly. ‘I think we should take it in case there’s no more room down there.’
One glance at the crowded platform and the banging doors of carriages told her he was probably right.
‘Up you go, then,’ she said, ‘We’ll stay and listen to the band this evening when we come back. I just don’t know where all the people have come from.’
The carriage was still cool and she breathed a sigh of relief as she sat down and settled Sarah beside her. There was one window seat left and it was agreed Sam and James could take it in turns to look out until they left the station, then Sarah and Hannah could take turns as they went through new countryside.
‘A lovely day, isn’t it,’ said a gentleman sitting opposite, with his wife and three little girls.
Rose smiled, wondered if he might be a Methodist superintendent. She exchanged a few remarks with his wife, a pleasant woman whom she suspected was feeling the effects of firm corsetry, her dress very fashionable, but rather too heavy for comfort as the day was turning out.
The other occupants of the carriage were two young girls who whispered together and looked as if they might be in service and two young men, very well spruced up, but too shy and awkward even to exchange pleasantries.
Rose was pleased with Sam and James. They reported on everything they saw, but they did it quietly and without undue excitement. The only time they both pushed their heads together out of the carriage door, tramping on the feet of one of the young men as they did so, was when Mary Wylie’s young brother, now a station porter, came past locking the doors.
‘What are ye doin’ that for?’ asked James.
‘To keep ye from fallin’ out.’
‘No need, Davey,’ said Rose sharply, ‘I’ll see they don’t fall out.’
‘Right ye be,’ he said agreeably, as he moved on.
‘Are ye comin’ with us?’ asked James, leaning out as he locked the adjoining carriage.
‘No, I’m on the next train. Passenger. The 10.35 to Newry,’ he said as he passed on.
‘We’ll be going in a minute now,’ said Sam, taking his turn at the window, ‘the Guard has just blown his whistle. I can see him waving his flag.’
Seconds later, there was a minute movement in the carriage, followed by a distinct lurch, a long whistle and a passing cloud of steam and smoke.
‘We’re away,’ said Sam, his face wreathed in smiles.
‘Yes,’ said Rose, sitting back, glad they were underway at last, after all the waiting and the delays.
They rolled out of the station between high banks, the sides of the cutting steep and smooth, the light glinting in long, undisturbed grass with nodding heads. Briar bushes grew in tangles, pink with opening buds. Hannah changed seats with Sam and looked up at the blue sky high above them, surprised and delighted when the cutting became an embankment, and her view was now over meadows and hayfields.
‘My turn now,’ said Sarah.
Smiling agreeably, the woman beside Rose said what good children they were and how well they shared the window seat.
‘Susie, you change with Helen, then Mary can have a turn,’ she said to her own children, while her husband smiled benevolently and consulted his fob watch.
‘Fifteen minutes late,’ he said. ‘Good thing we’re not going to work, we’d be in trouble,’ he added, looking at the four young people.
One of the girls managed a smile.
‘You’d have a stoppage for that, sir, where I work,’ said the older of the two young men.
‘Were slowing down,’ said the gentleman. ‘I hope we haven’t got a cow on the line.’
James thrust his head through the window.
‘My turn,’ said Sam, urgently a few moments later.
At the moment he spoke, the train stopped.
‘I think they’ll have to bank her, she can’t get up the slope,’ said James, turning to Rose.
‘So we’ll have to wait for another engine to come and give us a push?’ asked Hannah.
‘They’ll not make it otherwise,’ he replied, soberly.
While the train was moving there had been a comfortably breeze through both open windows. Now the air was still and getting hotter every moment. The amiable lady was perspiring visibly and Sarah was beginning to get cross as the sun beat down on the thin roof of the carriage.
‘James, see what’s happening,’ said Rose, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable herself.
‘They’re going to divide the train,’ said James, suddenly. ‘They’ve uncoupled the first five coaches to take them up the gradient first. Then they’ll come back for us.’
‘Let me look,’ said Sam, urgently. ‘Let me look.’
James gave way reluctantly under Rose’s glance.
‘A man’s put stones under the wheels of this carriage,’ said Sam, abruptly. ‘The other man says he’s mad to take the vacuum off. What’s that mean?’
By way of answer, James stuck his head out of the window again. As he did so, the carriage received a bang loud enough to startle everyone. It began to move imperceptibly backwards. He spun round, his face taut with urgency.
‘Ma, the stones have crumbled, we’ve got to jump out?’
‘Why James?’ Rose asked, alarmed by the tone of his voice.
‘There’s no brakes on us now the vacuum’s off, and the 10.35 is coming up behind us. We’ll run straight back into her.’
‘Open the door James and jump out. I’ll drop Sarah down next,’ she said without any hesitation.
The movement in the carriage was very small. The young girls looked at her in surprise as she lowered Sarah into James’s waiting arms.
‘You next, Sam, and catch Hannah.’
Rose was about to jump down after her when she realised no one else in the carriage had moved.
‘Please, please, follow me immediately,’ she said, looking at the gentleman and then at the young people. ‘Something dreadful is going to happen, I can’t start to explain, but I know James is right,’ she said as the carriage wavered more significantly. ‘I must go to my children,’ she said, with a final backwards glance.
She paused at the door to get her balance and jumped down, almost falling forward, but managing to steady herself. She ran back the dozen or so yards to where the children were standing waiting, Sarah with tears running down her face.
‘I’m all right, Sarah, but I’ve got to go and see Auntie Mary. James, take them well off the line, out of the sun. Wait for me.’
She picked up her skirts and ran as hard as she could to catch up with the runaway carriages, trying to work out how far away Mary’s had been. She was gasping for breath as the coaches picked up speed and she tripped several times on the rough stone as she tried to navigate the narrow space between the rails and the edge of the embankment.
Heads were now poking out of windows, arms trying to open locked doors. The carriages were gaining speed, minute by minute, running quickly down the gradient that had defeated the engine on the way up.
‘Mary, Mary, she called, as she drew level with a coach that might be the one. A man was struggling with the door. Mary’s face appeared beside him at the window white with fear.
‘It’s locked, Rose. It’s locked,’ she shouted, shaking her head in despair.
‘Try the other side,’ she yelled. ‘Jump out, Mary,’ she cried, with one last effort to keep pace with the carriage. ‘For God’s sake, jump.’
She straightened up, a violent stitch in her side, as the last carriage of the divided train rattled past at speed. She took a deep breath, crossed the line and looked down the embankment, hoping against hope to see a figure, standing, sitting or even lying on the grass. But there was no one there.
The screams of the trapped people sounded in her ears. And then a yet more ominous sound, the long, long whistle of the oncoming passenger train. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing and waited for what had to come. The smash of metal on wood, the cries of people whose bodies would shatter like the wood of the carriages.
The pain in her chest was so bad she couldn’t breathe. She tried to move and couldn’t. Finally, she let herself slump to the ground and buried her face in the warm grass. She gasped, panting madly, found she could breath again. Then she staggered to her feet, shaking violently and crossed the railway line.
‘The children are waiting, Rose,’ she said aloud. ‘Don’t look back. Just don’t look back.’