A Woman Undefeated (14 page)

She hesitated, uncertain whether to take the path that lead to the church, meet the priest and make her confessional, or continue along to the village where perhaps she could buy herself a pie. Her stomach won. She would feed her soul on Sunday, now that she knew that she could worship here.

She passed a school, an infant school it said on the inscription, with the date of the building circa 1841, then a blacksmith, a row of thatched cottages, and the Wheatsheaf tavern at the bottom of the hill.

She loved that first sight of the village, with its little shops and the smell of baking bread, which drew her to the door of the baker, where she bought a penny pie. It was manna from heaven, with the crust all crisp and golden and the gravy running down the front of her dress as she gulped every morsel.

She watched the village people, as they scurried about their business. Mostly housewives carrying heavy laden baskets, or tradesmen walking along. Two young ladies stood talking in front of a shop called, “Anne Rosemary ( Tailoress)”, pointing excitedly at the dress on display in the window. She sauntered along towards them, curious to know where their admiration lay, and sighed at the sight of a blue satin gown. It was an elegant looking creation with velvet trimming at the hem. Compared with Peggy’s cast off, it was tip-top. Not home made or second hand, or made from a bolt of cheap lawn.

Maggie sighed, then moved away, feeling rather disconcerted. She should be glad she had decent clothing on her back, when yesterday she’d been wearing tattered rags.

She moved to the doorway of the grocer, her heart beating madly as she saw the queue. Would the man serve her if he knew she was an immigrant? Would he understand her when she opened her mouth to speak? She lingered on the doorstep, her mouth dry, unable to move her feet.

“Tis your turn, girl,” said a large and florid housewife, nudging Maggie inside the door from behind, in irritation.“Some of us haven’t got all day, yer know.”

Maggie stumbled in and hesitated. All eyes were turned towards her, looking at her curiously. She felt self-conscious and purposely began to examine the contents of the dimly lit room. There were sacks of flour, drunkenly supported by the shabby whitewashed walls, dark polished shelves storing stout stone jars, hooks on the ceiling with flitches of ham, crumbly yellow cheeses under pristine muslin cloth and blocks of salt and sugar, on the counter nearby. The coins in her hand felt sweaty as she waited for the grocer to notice her, whilst part of her mind wondered why she was even standing there.

“Yes, me dear, what can I get yer?” The smiling grocer was polite, as he wiped his hands on the long green pinafore he wore, over a white wing collared shirt and black trousers. He waited, as the young woman before him seemed to be trying to make up her mind.

“A twist of tea, a pound of flour and a cake of soap, Sir, if it’s not too much trouble,” she said, hurriedly, hoping that she had enough to pay him, though she was sure his prices must be similar to what her mother used to pay in Ballina.

“Certainly, Madam,” he replied, somewhat tongue in cheek, as he had guessed from her accent that she was one of the Irish from the shore.

“Will that be all, Madam?”

Maggie nodded and watched as he poured a small quantity of tea leaves onto the dish upon his weighing scales, then transferred the contents into a small fold of newspaper, which he twisted and presented with great aplomb to her. A small pre-weighed bag of flour followed, nicely presented in a brown paper sack and then a cake of soap wrapped in waxed paper, that he had sliced from a block with a well sharpened knife. She smiled at him shyly and offered the coins, holding her breath in anticipation that he would give her some change. He gave her back a sixpence, two pennies
and a farthing and with Maggie being able to breathe more freely, she nodded her head in thanks and began to walk away.

“Glad to see someone from that lot paid for their stuff, Ezra,” the woman behind her remarked sourly.

“Isn’t it a grand morning, Mrs Bailey?”, was all that the grocer would say.

Heartened by her success in the grocer, though shaken that already she might have come across an enemy, Maggie turned her attention to whether she should save a little or spend all the coins that day. She turned each one over in her palm, not seeing the young head of Queen Victoria or the face of William the Fourth, but committing to memory the value of the coins and the weight of her good fortune. If she hadn’t found the shilling in the first place, there would be no money for her to spend, so a pair of stockings and a pair of drawers from that hosiery shop on the corner, wouldn’t be a waste of money as far as she was concerned.

If the truth was told she’d never owned either, so why not indulge herself today?

Later, as Maggie walked along the main street, clutching a pair of black woolly stockings and cambric drawers wrapped in a brown paper parcel and a little wooden hairbrush that she couldn’t resist, she heard a bell begin to toll behind her. Then the sound of a bugle, loud and piercing, drowned all sound, so she lounged against the corner wall of the Greenland Fishery and waited to see what kind of distraction was being heralded. It was the mail coach, the horses lathered and snorting as they pulled the vehicle up the hill.

They came to a halt before the post office, a small house really, but an important place, because, for those who could read and write, it was their link to the outside world. Letters and parcels were handed in by the uniformed coach man, then the coach and pair were on their way again.

“Yer can tell the time by the mail coach,” remarked a quavering voice at Maggie’s side. She hadn’t noticed the bent old man who stood near her, watching as the world passed him by.

“On its way now to Willaston, then to the villages around.
Been coming here now for twenty six years and the only time I’ve known it late was during the blizzards, when they couldn’t get the coach out of Chester that day. I was a clock maker then. Over there, see by the grocer, so I could tell if it was late or on time. Though I can hardly see a thing now, all shapes and shadows. My son has taken over me business, so now I have the time to dream.”

Maggie looked at him sharply. It was as if he had been reading her thoughts, as that had been near enough to what she had been thinking too. That this day was for her pleasure and tomorrow there would be no time to dream. The old man looked sad as she bade him farewell and set off down the lane to the shore, but before she went back to the cottage she meant to gaze at the mountains again.

As she rounded the corner of the lane, she was startled to see a large two masted sailing ship dominating the scene. It took up all the space at the beginning of the old quay wall and was obviously of interest, as there was quite a crowd of people standing watching there. Propped against the side of the boat was a wooden gangplank and, at a signal, reluctant, bellowing cattle began to hurtle down into the sea. The water was shallow between the boat and the sand and as soon as the animals had found firm ground, they ran in all directions. It was bedlam, but a source of amusement for the onlookers, as they shouted their encouragement to the escaping cows. The smell of freedom had assailed the nostrils of the bewildered cattle, having been cooped up in the hold for twenty hours or more.

It all looked so exciting that Maggie quickened her pace towards the scene, until she saw who was overseeing the unloading. It was Farmer Briggs, shouting his orders to his farm hands, who were trying desperately to manoeuvre the animals up the steps of the seawall. She gasped and ran quickly to hide in an alley that she had passed by earlier. If Jack were to see her, there was sure to be trouble. He would take the view that she should be busy in the cottage, not standing on the sea front idling her life away.

Maggie waited with her heart in her mouth, expecting Jack to
see her as the cattle were driven by. On hearing the sounds of the men and beasts get nearer, she began to wish she was anywhere but there. Then, suddenly there was a silence, causing Maggie to peer nervously around the corner to see where the cattle and men had gone. But then she saw a dirt track that ran at the side of an old building, once the old custom house, which gave a shortcut across the farmer’s fields.

With a sense of relief she came out of hiding and looked over to the crew of the cattle boat, as they prepared to furl up the sails. Her spirits rose, as she realised that this might be the boat that was captained by Johnny. Wouldn’t he get a shock when he saw her, thinking that he had left her in Killala, only a couple of days before?

She walked towards the promenade, her heart racing madly at the daring plan that was beginning to form in her mind. If Johnny was the captain, she was going to ask if he would consider taking her back with him. Life with Jack was not what she wanted. She had been coerced into this and these last few days had been a misery. She would return to Killala and beg work from the Colooneys, or any other tenant farmer who had not abandoned their Irish soil. She would find Molly and they would live together happily, instead of having to live with a husband who would be forever demanding his rights in the marriage bed.

Johnny came down the gangplank and walked with his head down in her direction. He was intent on reaching the tavern, where the landlord would be serving a meal. His crew had gone ahead to make sure a new barrel of ale was tapped in readiness. There were a few hours to burn before the tide was running and deep enough for the boat to leave its berth. Maggie stood there in his pathway, holding her breath as she waited for his reaction.

“Have yer forgotten me already?” she asked, innocently unaware that she was being coquettish, as he began to say “excuse me” in an effort to pass her by. “And here was me thinkin’ you would never forget me face again.”

He took a step back, seemingly astonished, his mind in
confusion as he stared back at her. Did he know this girl or was she one of the local prostitutes he had used before? Her face was familiar, but her voice had sounded flirty. But wait, wasn’t this the girl he had helped back at his mother’s home? Bare foot and ragged, her long hair tangled around a weary looking face? Now her hair was all glossy, she was wearing a dress that wasn’t tattered and wore black shoes on her feet.

“Where have you come from?” he asked in bewilderment, looking around him as if she had been conjured up from nowhere. “I left you back in Killala, but a few days ago!”

“It’s a long story, Johnny, but take it from me not a pleasant one. If I’m not being a hinder, can I ask yer if yer’ll take me back when the ship leaves again? I need to find out what happened to Molly. I left her yer see, I had no say in the matter.”

Johnny shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was a shock to find her standing there, but he wasn’t her keeper. Whatever she’d got caught up in, it wasn’t up to him to sort it for her and what was she running from anyway?

Maggie could see he was taken aback, hardly over the shock of finding her in England before hearing that she wanted to go back home again. He looked as if he was having inner turmoil. He might risk the wrath of the ship’s owners for bringing a handful of immigrants across the water, but returning to Ireland with a woman was a different matter. What was his crew going to say?

No doubt mindful of his crew, who would be waiting impatiently for his appearance at the tavern, he took Maggie by the arm and ushered her to sit on the sea wall. He demanded an explanation, urged her to explain what had been happening, all the time hoping that her story wouldn’t take too long. She kept it short, telling of kidnap, abduction and forced marriage, and punctuated it occasionally with heart rending tears. Finally, not sure that she had convinced him enough to take her, she spoke again of her sister, hoping that the thought of Molly on her own in the hamlet, would swing his decision Maggie’s way.

She ended her tale and waited hopefully, scrubbing away her
sorrowful tears as she looked across at him. Had she given him enough of what had happened, to make him feel pity, make him help the underdog as he had before? Or should she promise reward for his kindness? A night in his arms might be easy for her.

But Johnny was frowning and his blue eyes looked concerned, as he gave his consideration back to her.

“If it’s Molly that has yer worried, then I can tell you I saw a little girl with the farmer. They passed our cottage yesterday morning, as I was leavin’ for the port. Filbey was carrying her and I’m sure she was smiling, though I couldn’t see so well meself in the early gloom.”

He watched, as the girl’s face began to crumple. So, Molly had gone. What was the point of returning when her sister had gone so far away? At least if Molly had stayed with their aunt in the hamlet, there was a chance of seeing her again one day.

She took the liberty of hiding her face in the lapel of Johnny’s jacket, so overwhelmed by his news that she didn’t care. He patted her shoulder, feeling a little awkward. No doubt hoping that none of his crew would return to find out where he’d got to.

“I have a question to ask, Maggie,” Johnny said a little later, looking sheepish, hating himself for having to ask it, but the answer would make things simpler from his point of view.

He lowered his voice and asked her gently, had the marriage been consummated? Had she given herself to her husband, like she was supposed to do?

Blushing fiercely, she answered that it had been so. Though she qualified her answer by muttering that it had only been to make a baby, because the priest would have wanted her to.

“Then I can’t take yer back to Ireland.”

He felt relief, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Yer married to Jack in the sight of God and until death yer must never be parted. I’m sorry fer yer Maggie, but yer must try to make the most of it. If I take yer back to Ireland, then I’ll be guilty of a heinous sin.”

With her face full of despair, she got up off the wall and stood
apart from him. He tried to soften the blow by making her a promise. He would look her up, when he came back with the cattle the following spring. It would give her a connection still with his mother and he would tell his mother that he had seen her, in case she was wondering where Maggie had gone.