EILY COULD NOT UNDERSTAND IT. The past two days had been perfect – they had had their fill to drink, a portion of grain each to chew. She had found a clump of large plump strawberries and also some tiny little hazelnuts. But Peggy was constantly cranky and whingeing and lagging behind. Michael and Eily took it in turns to catch her by her good arm and pull her along. She kept wanting to sit and rest. She was hungry and thin and exhausted, but so were they all.
Once or twice in frustration Eily had given her a wallop on the bottom, now knowing how Mother must have felt when they had been bold. However, Peggy would invariably break into tears and sit down. Eily tried to keep calm and remember all the good things about Peggy. Michael constantly teased her, which was his way of dealing with the annoyance. They had passed the side of the mountain, and when they had got across country for another bit more they would find themselves on the road to Castletaggart – nearly at the end of their journey. Eily was letting herself drift into a dream where they were re-united with Mother and Father and had gone back to the old cottage and all the neighbours were there to greet them and …
‘Eily! Eily! Quick, it’s Peggy!’ shouted Michael.
She jerked out of her dream and ran back through the coarse grass.
‘What’s wrong with that child now?’ she muttered angrily. ‘I suppose she’s sitting down for another little rest …’ She stopped her sharp words. Peggy was lying on the ground, her eyes shut and her breathing coming too quickly. They both stood over her.
‘Peggy! Peggy!’
Peggy did not move or stir.
‘Oh my God, what is it?’ cried Eily, kneeling down. She touched Peggy’s forehead. It was burning. The skin on her shoulders and legs and everywhere was hot to touch. She was burning up with a fever.
Michael ran on ahead to search for somewhere that would give a bit of shelter. A large hawthorn tree stood in the middle of the long coarse grass. Near the side of the field, about two yards from it, grew a few bushy shrubs. It was well hidden and protected. Michael came back up to Eily. They could not rouse Peggy. They laid a blanket on the ground and gently rolled her on to it, and then between the two of them they half-dragged and half-lifted it under the tree.
Peggy did not seem to be aware of what was going on around her. Eily settled her and placed the other blanket over her. A huge wave of guilt washed over Eily. She should have noticed that Peggy was sickening for something. She was meant to be the oldest and wisest – ‘the little Mother’!
‘Do you think she has the fever, Eily?’ asked Michael. ‘Or is it something after the dog biting her arm?’
Eily shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Michael, but whatever it is she’s burning up and very sick. It must have been coming on for the past few days.’
Then she remembered Mary Kate’s medicine and got the jar and mixed some of the powder with water. She raised Peggy a bit and managed to pour some of it into her mouth. Peggy spluttered as it went down her throat, and then seemed to sink back into a long deep sleep.
‘Will we light a fire?’ questioned Michael, trying to think of something to help the situation. He set about looking for flint stones and gathered any pieces of dry twigs and moss that he could find. He preferred to be busy. He did not want to have time to think or worry.
Eily watched him. Then for an hour he tried to get a spark to light the fire, but nothing happened. Eily had a few goes too.
‘Leave it, Michael, we can try later.’ Eily dampened a cloth with water and laid it to Peggy’s burning cheeks and forehead. Her whole head of dark brown hair was clammy with sweat as she tossed and turned. A few times she called out for Mother in a low voice.
‘Hush, love. Hush, love,’ was all that Eily could manage.
All that day and night Eily sat with Peggy, stroking her hair and holding her hand, giving her the fever mixture and trying to cool her down. Michael went off in search of nettles and roots and herbs to mix with a bit of water to make a thin cold soup. At night Michael dozed off, but Eily forced herself to stay awake. The little girl tossed and turned and sometimes cried out in pain. She had a nightmare about the dogs attacking her, and kept shouting ‘Dog, the dog,’ her eyes wide and staring, before collapsing back into a heavy sleep. Eily knew that Peggy didn’t know who she was with or where she was. Also she couldn’t help wondering, would they all get the fever now. Who would look after her if she got sick? She could feel her head bursting with the worry of it all. Eily kept checking Peggy’s skin. It was burning like fire with no sign of cooling down. However, there was no tinge of yellow to it at all. That was a good sign. Her skin glowed pink with her temperature and her two cheeks were a rosy red.
As she dozed lightly, Eily thought about Mother and Bridget, the baby nestled into her arms. Had Mother gone to join her little one in heaven? Eily opened her heart and prayed, ‘Don’t let Peggy die – don’t take away my little sister – keep her safe – let her get well.’
Eily dozed and when she woke up the early morning was damp. Her arms and back were stiff and sore. Peggy was still in a deep sleep, her breathing loud and far too fast.
Eily walked away a few yards to relieve herself and then took the can of water and gulped some down; the rest she splashed on her face and back to try and wake herself up. She could send Michael for more when he roused himself. If only they had the fire. She picked up the flints, sparking them off each other in a temper. It caught some dried moss and began to smoulder! She hardly dared move as she angled a few twigs to catch the small flame. They were a bit damp and cold after the night and spluttered a little, but they took. Now at least they had the comfort of a bit of fire.
Michael and Eily both felt useless. There was very little they could do but sit and stay near Peggy. Michael roved around frantically to find something of substance to eat, but to no avail. Flower heads, grass, leaves, everything was being added to the water along with a tiny bit of grain, but it did nothing to kill the growing hunger pains in their stomachs. Michael kept his eyes constantly peeled for the sight of a rabbit or hare but never saw even the sign of one. It was hopeless. Soon both of them would be too weak to walk. They would have to do something.
Michael disappeared for the morning with a grim look on his face, and came back with some kind of creature skinned and cleaned out, but there was little eating in it. Cooked with the nettle leaves, it was disgusting, and a feeling of queasiness washed over Eily as she forced herself to swallow it and later to try and keep it down.
That evening, with Peggy’s head resting in her lap, Eily couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if they had gone to the workhouse with Tom Daly and the crowd from their district. Peggy wouldn’t be sick, and they might have had a bit of stew and a piece of bread each day. Had she made the wrong choice and cost them all their lives? She felt so depressed and downhearted. Maybe they could still go to a workhouse. There was bound to be one somewhere around. They might get help there. The idea burned in her brain. She couldn’t leave Peggy, but Michael – he could go, maybe, and someone might come to help them with Peggy.