LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

sometimes wandered. They’d all heard the story before.

      Georgie and the twins, along with Hallie, stood near the table in hungry anticipation. “Now you children keep your hands to yourselves until I’ve found time to prepare a proper meal,” Peggy scolded.

      “Aw, Mum. Just a bite of bread won’t hurt,” Callie defended, tearing off a chunk of bread for each of them. Bridget and Billy, the twins, stuffed the whole of it into their mouths, their eyes rolling in delight. Hallie and Georgie, following suit, resembled two golden-haired chipmunks.

      Thomas James strolled into the kitchen, both arms behind him, rubbing the small of his back. His tall, lean frame was stooped over at the waist, and a wince of pain dissolved suddenly as little Bridget ran up to him, demanding to be lifted into his arms. Callie saw the streaks of white at her Da’s temples and wondered if they had appeared overnight. Or was she suddenly seeing him as if for the first time? Mum was right, he did look ill.

      Upon Thom’s entrance, Peggy immediately brightened. “How are you this mornin’, love? Look what Callie’s brought us. A nice boiled egg will lift your spirits, I’ll grant you.”

      Thomas’s blue eyes, so much like Callie’s, twinkled. “You’re a lift to my spirits, love.” He wrapped his arms around Peggy and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

      “Put me aside, man. Can’t you see I’ve got cooking to do?” Peggy’s eyes went to Callie, knowing the moment had come for the girl to explain her offering.

      “Where did you come by it, girl?” Thomas asked. “Have you been rolling bones outside McDonough’s Pub with the rest of the fools who gamble a week’s wages on the throw of the dice?” Thomas was teasing, knowing Callie was much too thrifty to risk her money in a game of chance. Still, his eyes found hers and would not release them until she answered.

      “It was a shameful thing I did, Da. There was this basket, all stuffed with the best groceries in all Dublin, and no one was near it. No one! A basket, filled with food during these hard times, and no one to watch it. It was just begging for me to bring it home. So I did.” Thomas looked at his oldest daughter. He’d never known her to lie, but her tale was close to unbelievable.

      “I ask you, Da. Would you have left a basket such as this without a care as to who might pick it up and bring it home to their poor little brothers and sisters?”

      “Enough, Callie. I don’t want to hear any more. If you say the basket was left, then it was, and I’ll not doubt you. The James’ family is certain to come into a little luck every now and then. It’s the law of averages, I’d say.” Still, Thomas’s gaze did not leave her until one of the children begged to sit on his lap. Sitting down and lifting Billy onto his knee, Thomas turned to Peggy. “I think it’s best, love, that we not tell your sweet sister Sara about our good fortune.” There was a knowing look about him as he spoke. “I wouldn’t want the poor deprived woman to be jealous of the likes of us Jameses.”

      Hallie giggled. “Oh, Da, how could Aunt Sara be jealous of us? She lives in that fine house, and look at the pretty clothes she wears. And Uncle Jack is always jingling pennies in his pocket . . .”

      “And why shouldn’t she be jealous of us?” Thom pretended to scold. “We’ve got our own little Hallie, named for the beauteous Helen of Troy herself. And we’ve got Bridget, sweet as the saint in flesh.” He chucked the babe under the chin and made her giggle. “Oh, and of course we’ve got Billy. Now I ask you, does your Aunt Sara have a fine big boy like our Billy? And Georgie. Named him for Granda, your mum and me did. And ain’t he a fine, strapping lad? Smart with numbers and letters, too.” Thomas rose from the chair and went to take Callie into his arms. “And none in all of Ireland, or elsewhere for that matter, has our Callie. Named her for a great lady I once knew when I traveled to London. A great lady. Kind and lovin’ and forgivin’. Callandre was her proper name. Aw, but you were such a wee one it seemed too large a name to fit you.”

      Callie turned in her father’s arms, laying her head against his chest. Tears swam in her eyes. She did love her Da. She did. If only he hadn’t put another babe in her mum’s belly. If only he would try harder to find work.

      Resting his chin on Callie’s head, he began to croon to her, a sweet, lilting melody she remembered from when she was a little girl. “Ah, Callie, no matter how old you get and no matter what you think of your old Da, you’re still my girl and I love you.”

      A shudder went through Callie as she leaned against Thom, burying her face into his shirtfront. God help her, she was as weak as her mother when it came to loving him. And God save her from ever loving another man just like him!

      Callie bustled the children out of the tiny row house on McIver Street, grasping the twins, Bridget and Billy, by the hands. It seemed to Callie that for the first time in months the children were bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked. She knew it was impossible that hunger and privation could be assuaged by one meal, yet it gave her a kind of peace, temporary though it might be, to know that the little ones were free from the hollow cramps of hunger.

      Georgie and Hallie walked together, excited about this rare outing with their older sister. They should be in school, Callie thought bitterly. Peggy’s effort to teach them their letters was squeezed between cleaning the house and laundering the fancy clothes the English officers’ wives sent to her, not to mention Aunt Sara’s frilly petticoats and bloomers, done for half price seeing as how she was family.

      Most of the public schools in Ireland had closed as a direct result of the potato blight. Towns and cities suffered for taxes, and there was no money to pay teachers. The usual education of Ireland’s working class children had been sketchy and of short duration. When a child reached the age of ten, he was sent to work in the mills or a related industry. Callie herself had enjoyed the benefits of an education until she was nearly fourteen. Times had been better then; Thomas had held a regular position at the mill, and Granda had been a steady contributor to the family from his job as all-around man for several shops along Blakling Street. It wasn’t until just before the twins were born, in 1845, that the first potato crop had failed. The crops had failed ever since, and that was three years now. Lord only knew what the next crop would bring. English and Irish newspapers were already calling it the Great Famine, but naming it and living it were two different things, as Callie well knew. What she didn’t know were the reasons.

      Ireland’s population had risen sharply during the sixty or so years prior to the potato failure. Land, which had always been scarce, had become almost impossible to obtain. Even the smallest plots that would hardly yield a living were unavailable to the common man. Irish peasants led a hand-to-mouth existence. It was common to see beggars on country lanes and city streets. Employment was so scarce and so poorly paid in Ireland that enterprising men left the country to find labor jobs in England after planting their potato crop, returning only after the harvest.

      The introduction of the Corn Laws in 1846 further reduced the small number of land holdings. These laws prompted landlords to turn into pasture much of the land that had been used to produce grain, and in so doing, forced numbers of Irish peasants off their rented land into utter destitution.

      Because so many Irish had so little land, there was urgent need for a staple crop whose seed was cheap and simple to plant, whose harvest was easy and would feed them for months afterward. The potato, only minimally nutritious, met most of these requirements. Supplemented with buttermilk, it became the dominant crop and staple diet of the Irish. But there was great danger in being totally reliant upon the potato.

      Because it was subject to spoilage and because almost no one had land enough to harvest a year’s supply of food, peasants were often compelled to go into debt to live at the barest level of subsistence. There was no substitute for the potato in the event of a harvest failure, and most Irish would be unable to buy food if such a disaster should happen. When the insect that brought the potato blight struck with its full force in 1845, tragedy was the result.

      But some people never seemed to have to do without, Callie thought as she hurried the children along McIver Street. Some like Aunt Sara and Uncle Jack and their precious only child, Colleen. That was why she had had to take

Скачать книгу