‘WAIT, MICHAEL! WHAT IS IT? Where are we going?’ she shouted.
He turned back and signalled her to be quiet. Within a minute he had led her to the ditch where the cow stood, still trapped.
Eily looked puzzled. Surely he wasn’t going to try and kill the cow. She patted her on the rump. The cow looked around balefully, her liquid brown eyes soft and gentle but yet afraid.
‘Keep a look-out for a minute,’ urged Michael.
She let her eyes roam around but couldn’t see anything move.
‘What are you going to do?’ she hissed.
‘I’m going to bleed her,’ he replied.
‘What?’ said Eily. ‘But you don’t know how to, Michael.’
‘I heard Father tell us stories often enough about times before the potatoes failed and he and his father bled the landlord’s cattle. Come here and give me a hand.’
He was patting the cow on the neck and rubbing his hand down her front and side to find a vein. His father had told him that if you hit the main vein by mistake, the animal would bleed to death in a few minutes. He searched around until he found a likely one. Eily passed him the blade. He made a nick in the finer skin under the neck, but nothing happened. He deepened the cut and a droplet or two of blood appeared. The cow lowed and rolled her frightened eyes.
‘Easy girl, easy,’ assured Eily, patting her and trying to calm her. Michael was squeezing at the opening with his fingers. The blood began to trickle and then to flow freely and spatter on the ground. Eily held the can to catch it as it fell. The blood seemed to pump quicker and quicker and in a little while the can was nearly full. Michael then made Eily put pressure on the vein and hold it to stop the bleeding while he mixed a paste of clay and grass and spit and smeared it on the cut. It took about ten minutes before it slowed down to a slight seepage. The animal was baffled. They helped to tear the brambles and thorns from her legs and pull her out of the ditch, and then they led her back into the field. Michael knew it would only be a matter of time before the cowherd would come searching for her.
They couldn’t believe it when, about five minutes later, they heard the young man calling the cow. Although they were a good distance away, they were terrified and lay down in the long grass, hoping they were well hidden. Eily kept a good hold of the precious can. They did not dare to stir for about twenty minutes, then they got back to Peggy as quickly as they could.
She was still dozing peacefully. Her skin and temperature felt more normal to the touch.
‘Well, Michael, what about the workhouse? Is it far? Will we be able to get help for Peggy?’ Eily kept on with a barrage of questions.
Michael hardly knew where to begin. He bowed his head, avoiding her eyes.
‘Things are desperate,’ he whispered. Eily got down on her knees, and touched his arm. ‘The workhouse is a few hours’ walk,’ he continued. ‘We’d never manage to carry her that far, and anyway it would be no good.’ He stopped for a moment. ‘Eily, it was dreadful. You could hear the crying and moaning from down the road – and the smell! It’s a place of sickness. Outside, the people sit, waiting for a bed to die on. They’re all like corpses but still alive, just about. And food – there’s none, divil a bi t . We have no place to go. Castletaggart is still a two- or three-day walk. We’re too weak – we’d never make it. My head is giddy and light. Maybe we should just lie here and wait?’
‘What about the can? We’ve got that now. That’s something,’ pleaded Eily. ‘It’ll give us a bit of strength.’
She got up, took the can and poured enough from it to cover the base of the pot. If only they had a bit of meal or something to mix into it. There were a few bits of grain and husks down at the bottom of the bag. She emptied them in. Michael silently handed her a bit of the wild garlic and she added part of it to the mixture and then held it over the low fire. She took care that the mixture didn’t burn as it thickened and stuck together, making a dark brown, nearly black cake. She divided it up, giving Michael the largest portion.
The taste was strange and strong. She nibbled at hers and then swallowed it quickly, as it was a bit crumbly. She had reserved a piece, just in case, for Peggy. They were both exhausted and spent the evening resting. Michael fell asleep, at one stage crying out as though in a nightmare.
Then, as if a miracle had happened, Peggy opened her eyes.
‘Eily, can I have a sup of water? I’m really thirsty.’
She was totally baffled by Eily’s cries of joy and endearments. The little girl drank a full can of water. Her face was as pale as snow and her eyes were like two huge brown dots with deep circles underneath. Eily took her up on her lap and kissed her nearly from top to toe. Her fever was gone. She would get better now. Eily sang her a few of her favourite songs and kept telling her what a good little girl she was.
Michael was just as surprised when he woke at mid-morning and found Peggy sitting up, leaning against the curved tree trunk. He gave her a wink, then ran across the field and picked an assortment of wild flowers and dropped them on her lap. The little girl was flattered with all the attention. She felt shaky and weak, but had no memory of how sick she had been. Eily gave her the left-over blood cake from the night before. She would make more that evening. After a while, Peggy dozed off again.
Michael and Eily decided that they must get Peggy and themselves strong enough again for the rest of the journey. It was their only chance.
The next few days were spent hunting for food. They had to keep the fire going also. They had finished the blood. Michael went searching at night and had been lucky enough to catch a rat and a hedgehog. They had lost their squeamishness by now and knew that all that mattered was their survival. Nettles were plentiful, and every ripening berry was also picked.
At last Peggy was back on her feet. On the third day, Michael and Eily got her to the stream. She sat on a rock as Eily washed her, and afterwards her skin tingled and she felt the last trace of the sickness had been washed away.
By midday the breeze had freshened. The sky had darkened and clouds scudded along, blocking out the sun.
‘Will we make a start?’ questioned Eily. ‘Do you think you’re ready yet, Peggy?’
A bit of colour had started to creep back into the little girl’s wan features.
‘I want to go and find the aunts, the ones that made the beautiful cake for Mother,’ answered Peggy.
They collected their stuff and threw dirt on the fire. It looked like it might start to drizzle soon and it would be best to get on the way once more.