OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Eily and Nano worked long and hard in the little kitchen, washing and preparing the fruit. Miley Lynch, from the small public bar near the school, had let them help themselves to a pile of empty jars and bottles in his yard, and they had washed them out then boiled them in water till they were spotlessly clean. Every pot and pan in the place was in use as they boiled fruit and sugar. The smell of sweet syrup and apples filled the cottage.
Naturally, young Jodie was full of curiosity, and screamed when he was pulled away from hot things for fear he’d burn himself.
‘Mary-Brigid, the best thing you can do to help us is to take your little brother out of the way,’ suggested Eily, so the children were forced to watch the goings-on from the doorway.
Nano spread a dusting of flour on the table and rolled out pale, oaten-coloured dough to make the pies. Then she quickly pared and sliced the apples and popped them in on top of the pastry.
They filled each glass jar with sweet jam and crab-apple and bramble jelly, and bottled the preserves and richly coloured chutneys.
Nano cut circles out of left-over scraps of cloth from the work-basket to tie on the lids, and Eily sat up till late in the night inscribing labels of white paper, which they glued on, saying: HOMEMADE BLACKBERRY JAM.
Michael sat in the corner watching them work. ‘This is just like being back at Nano and Lena’s,’ he said happily.
Eventually everything was finished, and Eily placed the jars and wide-necked bottles carefully in two huge straw baskets, ready for the morning. Nano had agreed to stay at home to mind Jodie. Michael would stay too, to mind the horses and help Nano if she needed it. Mary-Brigid and John and Eily would go to the market bright and early.
The Phelan brothers had lent John their donkey and cart and he had already loaded a creel of turf up onto the back. The baskets were put firmly in position, while Eily and Mary-Brigid held about a dozen pies between them on the seat, along with a tray of Nano’s oat-and-apple biscuits, trying to keep the whole lot from falling as they slowly jogged along.
The Saturday-morning market was held in the centre off Castletaggart, and by the time they arrived many of the stall-holders had already set up. John took down two long sugán rope stools he had brought, and they balanced the baskets on one of them and the pies on the other.
For their first hour not a soul bought anything. All the passers-by were people just like themselves, anxious to sell something, hoping to make their rent money. Mary-Brigid watched anxiously as a procession of countryfolk, with geese and hens and ducks, filed by. Men carried big rounds of hard yellow cheese, and there were stalls with long pats of golden butter, stamped with circles of curving flowers. Clothes and clocks and household hardware and white-and-blue crockery – no matter what a person wanted, they could buy it at the Saturday market.
Then Eily decided that they should perhaps move to a better position, so Mary-Brigid helped to drag their things across to the other side of the wide green.
In what seemed like the blink of an eye the pies and biscuits were all sold out!
‘Nano will be right pleased,’ laughed Eily, patting the pocket of her skirt and listening to the reassuring jingle of coins. But they still hadn’t sold any jam.
Mary-Brigid watched the stall across from them, where a mother and daughter were busy selling all sorts of bread and huge meat-pies and puddings. Judging by their conversation, many of the customers were regulars. They both watched enviously as customer after customer bought.
‘Mammy! They’d buy our jam if they only knew how good it tasted,’ said Mary-Brigid, trying to console her mother. ‘Maybe I could open a pot or two?’
‘Listen, pet,’ suggested Eily, ‘run across to the stall over yonder and buy a cake of soda bread. Here’s the money! And ask the lady if by any chance she could lend us a knife.’
The woman looked puzzled but obliged them, and Mary-Brigid ran back with a floury, golden cake of soda-bread. Straight away Eily began to slice it and lay it on an empty biscuit tray. She plopped a lump of rich blackberry jam on each small piece of bread.
‘Now, Mary-Brigid, these are for our customers!’ she announced, and she stood in front of the baskets and offered the slices to any passerby who looked like they might be customers. One jolly-looking woman bought three pots of jam while she stood munching on the bread. A gentleman stopped to buy some relish and several pots of Nano’s thick chutney.
Soon a sizeable group of curious people had gathered to sample their produce and to buy. Eily pointed some of them in the direction of the woman who had made the bread, and the woman waved cheerily over to them.
Finally one basket was totally empty and the other held only two pots of jam and a jar of chutney.
Mary-Brigid noticed that many of the stall-holders were packing up and putting their things away as the market came to an end.
The girl from the stall across from them appeared at their stall. ‘My Mammy said to give you this and to thank you for the extra custom you sent us.’ She handed Mary-Brigid a huge meat-pie. One piece of crust had broken slightly, but heated up it would make a grand meal.
‘Thank you,’ said Eily, ‘and please take a pot of jam from us.’
The young girl grinned. ‘Will ye be back in two weeks?’ she asked. ‘We usually come every second week.’
Mary-Brigid watched anxiously as her mother thought about it. They could definitely make more jams and preserves and Nano seemed to know the kind of confectionery people wanted to buy.
‘Aye,’ Eily replied, ‘we’ll be back.’
‘Well, see you then,’ and the girl grinned at Mary-Brigid before running back to join her mother.
Mary-Brigid helped to lift the empty baskets as they went to meet John. He was standing in the distance, the cart empty, all the turf sold. ‘A widow woman who lives on her own in the middle of the town took the lot,’ he explained, ‘and she wants me to deliver to her every few weeks.’
‘Oh that’s grand, John,’ said Eily. ‘We’ve all done really well by the looks of it.’
‘Daddy, there’s a meat pie for the tea too,’ Mary-Brigid told him.
‘I’m proud of ye both,’ he said, as they climbed up on the cart.
‘We know,’ beamed Mary-Brigid. ‘Come on, let’s get away home quick and tell the others the good news.’