MARY-BRIGID LOVED TO GO visiting even if it did mean having to get her hair brushed and pulled and braided back into two tight plaits. She swung her head from side to side, feeling the comforting wallop of hair against her cheek as she followed her mother along the bumpy laneway towards the Hennessys’ cottage. Eily walked briskly, carrying Jodie on her hip. The hedgerows were covered in heavy red droopy fuchsia bushes, and beneath them clumps of spiky orange flowers sprang out everywhere. It was a grand day for a walk and their friends’ cottage was only about another half-mile away. Mary-Brigid was looking forward to seeing the Hennessy boys again – it was a while since school had closed for the holidays and she missed her friends.
The Hennessys’ cottage was a bit bigger than their own, but as they came near it Mary-Brigid couldn’t help but notice that some of the thatch needed patching and the windows needed mending. She waited patiently as her mother called at the open door. ‘Hello, Frances! God bless all here.’ They went into the turf-smelling, untidy kitchen.
‘Eily! I’m right glad to see you and the children,’ said Frances Hennessy. ‘And how’s Mary-Brigid, the best girl in these parts?’
‘Fine, thank you, Mrs Hennessy!’ Mary-Brigid replied shyly.
‘Sit ye down! Sit ye down!’ Frances was busy feeding Colm, her youngest boy, who, with his scattering of pale ginger curls and freckled nose, was the very image of his mother. ‘I’ll wet the tea in a few minutes.’
Jodie disappeared off straight away to play with little Eoin, who was much the same age as himself. But Mary-Brigid’s friends, the twins, were nowhere to be seen, so she sat quiet and embarrassed as her mother and Frances chatted.
‘The twins will be along in a minute, pet,’ said Frances, ‘and they have something special to show you.’ She laughed, flinging back her plump neck and ignoring the dirty floor and mess of unwashed clothes in a heap in the corner. She was delighted with her visitors.
‘The fire’s a bit low, Mary-Brigid, will you be a good child and run out and fetch in a bit of turf for us?’
At the side of the house, Mary-Brigid looked at the sorry pile of dried-out old turf which lay on the ground. Her own daddy worked up on the bog as often as he could and already had a pile of turf almost the height of the chimney stacked against their house for the winter. The Hennessys would have to get a lot more turf, as they certainly hadn’t enough here to get them through the year. She selected four pieces that weren’t too crumbly and carried them inside, where her mother and Frances were deep in conversation.
‘There isn’t a spare penny, Eily. Paddy won’t even organise himself to cut enough turf to keep us going when the bad weather comes.’ Frances sounded really upset now.
‘Maybe John could bring some over for you,’ offered Eily. ‘We have plenty.’
‘That’s kind of you. Poor Paddy isn’t himself at the moment.’ Frances was almost in tears. ‘The new landlord came over here with William Hussey, his agent, and the two of them gave Paddy a right going over about yields and about that thistle field out back.
‘Everyone hereabouts knows that that field has grown nothing but thistles for years,’ she went on. ‘The agent said that Paddy’s not working the land properly, not growing enough crops, not paying enough rent … I tell you, Eily, Paddy’s right upset about it, angry like; there’s no telling what fool idea he’ll get into his head.’
Mary-Brigid tried to concentrate and understand what they were talking about. She could tell by her mother’s face and voice that it was something bad.
‘This new landlord, Frances, what’s he like?’ Eily asked.
‘Dennis Ormonde? A quare fellow!’ said Frances. ‘He wants us to work like slaves so that we can pay him a higher rent.’
‘A higher rent!’ gasped Eily.
‘Aye! Paddy’s right worried that Hussey is going to try and make us surrender our holding and evict us!’
‘He couldn’t do that! He wouldn’t!’ cried Eily.
‘Mark my words, Eily, there’s no telling what that man will do to the tenants!’ Frances said angrily, shaking her head of wavy curls.
A clatter of noise disrupted the conversation as the twins, Pascal and Patsy, appeared at last. They both looked grimy and dishevelled, but that didn’t matter a bit to Mary-Brigid. She jumped up to join them and get away from the serious conversation of the mothers.
‘Mam, can we bring Mary-Brigid to see Mo?’ they asked.
‘Aye!’ nodded their mother, who had brightened at the sight of the two nine-year-old rascals. ‘I’m trusting you boys to take good care of her, and keep her out of trouble.’ A puzzled look filled their identical features, as if they would never dream of getting into trouble!
‘Arragh! Run off the three of ye,’ said Frances with a laugh, ‘and give Eily and meself a bit of peace!’
* * *
Mary-Brigid was out of breath after an hour or more of haring around with the twins as they showed her everything – the muddy pool near the ditch where some frogs lived, the huge oak tree that Patsy said he’d climbed to see a crows’ nest, and the well which was so deep that if you dropped a stone in, you couldn’t hear it land. But the twins kept the very best thing to last. Mo, the farm cat, had had kittens and they took Mary-Brigid down to the old out-house to see them.
The very minute she set eyes on the four small bundles of fur, lying close to their large marmalade-coloured mother, Mary-Brigid fell in love with them.
‘Would you like to hold one of them?’ asked Patsy.
Mary-Brigid nodded. One bold little fellow got up from the old sacking bed and came over to sniff at her fingers and let itself be stroked. She could feel the orange kitten’s tiny claws stick to the wool of her cardigan as she hugged it close.
‘You’re my favourite!’ whispered Mary-Brigid in its ear, as the kitten stretched its paw to claw at her plait of hair. She wanted to hold this little kitten and never let it go.
It was nearly tea-time when they ran back to the cottage.
‘We’re starving, Mammy!’ shouted the boys.
‘Will ye stay, Eily, and have a bite with us?’ offered Frances.
‘Thank you kindly, Frances, but I’ve left Nano keeping an eye on a pot of rabbit stew,’ said Eily.
Mary-Brigid could sense her mother’s tiredness and anxiety.
‘Try not to worry, Frances,’ Eily continued, ‘the Tenants’ Rights League would never let William Hussey get his way. Look, I’ll send John over in the morning with the cart of turf, and maybe he can talk to Paddy.’
The two young women hugged each other.
‘You’re a good friend, Eily,’ murmured Frances, tears welling in her eyes, ‘I’ll never forget you for this!’ She turned to the twins. ‘Patsy, did ye get what I told you?’
The twins disappeared but returned within seconds, carrying the orange kitten which they tumbled into Mary-Brigid’s delighted arms.
‘What do you say, Mary-Brigid?’ prompted Eily.
‘Thank you! Oh, thank you so much, Mrs Hennessy. I promise to take good care of him.’
The Hennessys stood at their door until Eily, Mary-Brigid and Jodie were out of sight. Eily was silent and distracted, Jodie drowsy and almost asleep on her shoulder, as they traipsed along the path for home. Mary-Brigid did her best to block out the words and worries she’d overheard with the comforting heat of the small kitten cradled inside her cardigan.
‘Just wait till Maisie sees him!’ she announced.