Woman of the House Read online

  Chapter Seventeen

  KATE HEARD THE tapping at the door as she slowly surfaced out of the depths of sleep. Who could it be at this hour of the night? she wondered. She had gone to bed exhausted after the trauma of the day and fallen into a deep, deep sleep. Now she tried to pull herself up out of it and to get her brain turning over again. She slid out of the bed and pulled her warm dressing gown around her.

  When she had come back to Kilmeen to take up her job here, Sarah had advised the purchase of the warmest dressing gown that she could find.

  “It’s one of the requirements for this job,” Sarah had told her. “There is nothing like the comfort of a heavy wool dressing gown to ease the pain of dragging yourself out of a warm bed on a cold night. It wraps itself around you and makes you feel human when the rest of your fellow creatures are sound asleep.”

  It was wise advice, Kate thought, as she ran down the stairs to find out who was in trouble at this hour of the night. When she opened the door fear clutched her. Matt Conway was standing there. He looked more dishevelled than usual in a huge overcoat with the collar reaching up over his ears and strings of foxy hair hanging down over it.

  “The old woman is dying and wants to talk to you,” he told her abruptly.

  “She was fine a few days ago,” Kate said stupidly, trying to recover from the shock of seeing him.

  “Well, she’s not now.”

  “Did Dr Twomey see her?”

  “Yea, and he said she’s had a stroke. I was up with Fr Brady now and he said to tell you that he’ll collect you in a few minutes and bring you out to our place,” he told her in an expressionless voice before simply walking away.

  She ran upstairs, got dressed quickly and packed extra towels into her bag, together with anything else that she thought she might need. If Molly Conway died she would have to be laid out, and Biddy Conway did not strike Kate as the kind of woman that would have anything put by for such an emergency.

  She had just opened the door when Fr Brady’s black Hillman pulled up outside. He reached across and opened the car door for her. An extremely tall, thin young man, he was curved over the steering wheel, and his dark hair looked as if he had combed it with his fingers. As Kate got into the car he finished his dressing by fastening his collar at the back.

  “Good morning, Kate,” he said pleasantly, moving his shoulders to settle more comfortably into his jacket. “As you can see I’m not at my best at this hour. We’re having an early start to our day.”

  “We are indeed, “she agreed. “This is a bit of a surprise because she was fine a few days ago. I was tending her since she cut her leg badly, but of course they did not get it looked after in time. They don’t like outsiders around the place.”

  “I’ve never been there.”

  “Very few have; it will be part of your rural education.”

  He was what Jack termed a “townie” and knew very little about the country.

  “What about Kitty?” he asked.

  “Sarah told you?”

  “She did, and I’m glad,” he said. “It’s better to know what’s going on because then you’re not walking in the dark.”

  “Sarah said something like that when we found out,” Kate told him, “and of course she was right.”

  “Messy business,” he said quietly.

  “Makes you sick in your stomach,” she agreed, “but if Molly dies there is pressure on us to move fast.”

  “Molly Conway knows that you know?”

  “She does,” Kate said, “and so does he.”

  “How did you manage that?” he asked in surprise.

  “Without opening my mouth.”

  “I could understand the need for that,” he said, “but it was a fair achievement in the circumstances.”

  “It just fell right for me on the day.”

  “Hope that it falls right for us tonight as well.”

  No barking dogs heralded their arrival. He must have them all locked up, Kate thought.

  The whole family were gathered together around Molly Conway’s bed. Kitty’s was the first face that Kate saw, and it was ashen and terrified, a replica of Mark’s drawing. Kate suddenly felt chilled. When she looked at Molly Conway’s face and checked her pulse she knew that it was only a matter of time. The old lady was grey-faced and breathing heavily. When she felt her hand being held she opened her eyes and forced herself to focus.

  “Kate Phelan,” she rasped.

  “Yes, it’s me,” Kate told her, bending close to her in the bed, “and Fr Brady is here as well to anoint you.”

  “He can wait,” she said, struggling for breath. “There is something more important.” She closed her eyes again but took another breath and they fluttered open. “Send them down to the kitchen,” she gasped, looking around the room at her family before sinking back on the pillows.

  “Leave us for a few minutes,” Kate said quietly, and they trooped silently out of the room.

  Fr Brady stood in the shadows by the window, out of Molly Conway’s line of vision. Kate was glad of his presence in case she needed someone to witness what Molly wanted to say.

  “What is it, Molly?” she whispered into the old woman’s ear.

  “Are they gone?” she asked with an effort.

  “They are.”

  There is very little left in her, Kate thought. She could hear the death rattle deep in the old woman’s throat, but still Molly struggled against it. Suddenly, with a determined effort she rose up in the bed and grasped both of Kate’s hands in a vicelike grip. She struggled for breath and the words came out in gasps.

  “Kate Phelan?”

  “I’m here, Molly. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “It’s Kitty,” the old woman breathed painfully. “Look after Kitty for me.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Kate asked.

  “I have money left to Mary… to look after Kitty… a lot of money.” The words came in gasps with rasping breaths in between. “In the bank in Ross… in her name… a letter too. You are to get Kitty out of here … up to Mary.”

  “I’ll do that,” Kate promised her.

  “Tonight,” Molly gasped. “You’re to get her out tonight.”

  Kate hesitated for a moment, wondering how on earth she was to get the child out of the house that night. In the shadows Fr Brady moved slightly and nodded his head.

  “He’ll help,” the old woman said clearly. Even at this stage Molly was perfectly lucid in her thinking and aware of what was going on in the room.

  “I’ll do that, Molly,” Kate promised. “You’ve nothing to worry about now, because I’ll look after Kitty. She’ll be quite safe.”

  “Thank God,” the old woman sighed and sank down into the pillows. Kate stepped back into the shadows and Fr Brady, with the anointing oils in his hands, moved over to the bed.

  She looked out the window over the valley towards Mossgrove and saw the dawn breaking on the far horizon, and ever so gently a bird chirped, the first note of the dawn chorus. Behind her she could hear the murmur of Fr Brady’s voice and Molly’s breathing getting more laboured. What is it like to die, Kate wondered; to know that you are leaving everything behind and facing into the unknown. She had seen many people die and had never lost her wonder in the presence of death. She had felt the same sense of wonder in the presence of birth. The beginning and the end.

  Fr Brady joined her at the window. “She is sinking fast,” he said; “they’d best come in.” He opened the door and beckoned to the family who were hunched together around the fire. They filed slowly into the bedroom: Matt, Biddy and the two boys who had moved Kitty’s bed, and two older boys whom Kate just knew were Conways when she saw them. They stood awkwardly around the bed, not quite sure what was expected of them, and Kate went out quietly and closed the door behind her.

  Kitty was sitting on a chair by the fire, her teeth clenched.

  “Is Nana dying?” she forced out the words.

  Kate went over to the fire and sa
t on a wide sugan armchair across from her.

  “Do you want to sit here beside me, Kitty?” she asked, moving sideways to make room for the child. Kitty slipped into the chair beside her and Kate put an arm comfortingly around her thin shoulders.

  “Your Nana is dying,” she told her, “but she asked me to look after you, and I promised her that I would.”

  “She was always very nice to me, but I got a terrible fright tonight when she called me.”

  “She was lucky to have you with her. You were a great girl to be able to help her.”

  “Where will I sleep now?” Kitty asked fearfully.

  “You’re coming back to my house tonight.”

  “Am I?” Kitty asked in amazement. “Why so?”

  “Because your Nana said so,” Kate replied.

  “Oh! Nana said that she would make everything all right.”

  “And she did,” Kate told her, lifting Kitty on to her lap. She was rigid with shock and tension. Kate rubbed her hands and legs and gradually she warmed a little. She badly needs a bath, Kate thought, as she looked down at the matted hair and dirt-ringed neck. Poor little mite, she is worse off than Nora. A dead father is better than the monster in this house.

  The bedroom door opened and the family filed down into the kitchen. The boys looked bewildered but there were no tears. Their grandmother had helped to rear them, Kate thought, so they must have felt something for her, but there was no evidence of it.

  “She’s gone,” Matt said, looking at Kate and his daughter with an expressionless face.

  “Will you go over for Sarah and we’ll lay her out?” Kate asked him.

  “Sarah will do it by herself,” he told her sharply.

  Kate was about to protest, but Fr Brady, coming up out of the room, said quietly to Matt, “We’ll call to Sarah on our way past to spare you the bother of going over, because you will have a lot to do here preparing for the wake.”

  “That’s right,” Matt agreed with a triumphant glare at Kate.

  “Your mother wanted Kitty to come with us,” Fr Brady added quietly. “She is after a bad shock for one so young and might be better out of the house. Death isn’t easy for any of us, but it’s a terrible shock for one so young.”

  “If that’s what the old woman wanted,” Matt agreed hesitantly.

  “That’s what she wanted,” Fr Brady told him firmly, “so we’ll be going now and I’ll call back in the morning to make funeral arrangements. When you’ve had a chance to sort things out between yourselves.”

  Kitty walked out of the kitchen holding Kate’s hand without a backward glance. She has more courage than I had yesterday, Kate thought. As she passed Matt Conway she barely heard the hiss, “I’ll get you for this yet.” She cast a sideways look at Kitty and knew that she had not heard.

  As they drove up the road, the early morning sun shot beams of light across the landscape. It’s a new day and a new start for Kitty, Kate thought, and suddenly her heart lifted and she felt a great surge of admiration for the woman who had just died. Molly Conway had her faults but was a force to be reckoned with even in death.

  Kate tapped on the window of Sarah’s bedroom and then went to the front door to wait. After a few minutes Sarah opened the door wrapped in a long wool dressing gown.

  “Who’s dead?” she asked simply.

  “Molly Conway,” Kate told her, and added: “a stroke. You’ll have to lay her out on your own, Matt didn’t want me around.”

  “What about Kitty? Sarah asked quickly.

  “In the car with us,” Kate told her, nodding towards Fr Brady’s car.

  “How did you manage that?”

  “Molly’s instructions, and Fr Brady helped.”

  “And where from here?” Sarah asked.

  “Up to Mary – she left money for it,” Kate told her.

  “I knew she had money,” Sarah said. “I’ll send a telegram to Mary as soon as the post office opens, telling her that Molly is dead.”

  “Have you everything that you need for over?” Kate asked, nodding across the valley to Conways. “I’d say Biddy hasn’t even a clean towel in the house.”

  “Ah, Kate,” Sarah told her, “I’ve walked down that road before. There are a good few like Biddy knocking around. But not to worry – I’ll manage.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, so, and I might see you later on.”

  “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” Kate asked Fr Brady when he pulled up in front of her door.

  “It won’t be too much trouble?” he asked, uncoiling himself out of the car.

  “Not at all,” she assured him. “I’ll be making it anyway and I’m sure that Kitty would like something too.”

  She ushered them into the hallway, then led them into the kitchen.

  “What a lovely warm kitchen,” Fr Brady said admiringly.

  “The range is great,” Kate told him, putting on the kettle and then rattling up the fire with the long poker between the bars, “especially if you have to go out on a night call.”

  Kitty stood looking around her in awe.

  “Would you like a cup of warm cocoa?” Kate asked her, and she nodded her head.

  “I’d like that too,” Fr Brady told her; “there is something very comforting about cocoa and toast.”

  “Cocoa and toast it is, so,” Kate said, putting cuts of bread on top of the still-warm range and three mugs on the side where she spooned the cocoa into them and mixed it with sugar and milk, adding water then from the boiling kettle.

  “Now, sit down here,” she told them, putting the mugs of cocoa on the table, “and this will put hair on your chest, as Jack used to tell me when I was small.” Kitty giggled as she drank the cocoa down and chewed the toast with satisfaction.

  “You’re a fast eater,” Kate told her as she drained the cup. “Would you like another one?”

  “No,” Kitty mumbled, packing the last of the toast into her mouth.

  “Come with me, so,” said Kate, holding out her hand. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she told the priest as she and Kitty left the kitchen.

  She led Kitty up the stairs and into her small spare bedroom at the back of the house. “Now, Kitty, you can sleep in here, and now I’ll show you the bathroom.”

  Kitty looked at the big white bath in admiration. “Mary told me that she had a bath like that in Dublin, but I never was in one.”

  “Would you like to go into it now?” Kate asked in surprise. She had been tempted to suggest it but had not wanted to hurt Kitty’s feelings.

  “I’d love it,” Kitty said with excitement.

  Aren’t children wonderful, Kate thought, as she turned on the taps. She put in expensive bath oil that she had bought in London and spared for special occasions. This is definitely a special occasion, she thought, as she ran her hand through the warm water and bubbles foamed up. She eased Kitty’s clothes off over her head and then lifted her into the bath where she squealed with delight.

  “Now, Kitty, I’ll wash your hair and then you can soak for a while and enjoy yourself.”

  It took two rounds of shampooing before she felt that Kitty’s lovely red hair was clean, and then she soaped her down with a big soft sponge.

  “Now you’re squeaky clean, so we’ll run off that dirty water and fill the bath up again with clean warm water.” Kitty laughed with delight as the water gurgled out of the bath and then the steaming taps filled it up again.

  “Are you all right now?” Kate asked her.

  “Grand,” Kitty grinned up at her. “I love the warm water. I feel like a fish.”

  “Stay there as long as you like. I’ll be up to dry you off, or if you want to do it yourself the towels are there.”

  “Can I lock the door when you go out?” Kitty asked timidly, fear lurking at the back of her eyes.

  “Of course you can, and I’ll knock when I come up,” Kate told her.

  Downstairs Fr Brady had refilled their cups with cocoa.

  “I’m an old hand at
this,” he told her. “My grandmother loved cocoa and got me into the habit of it, so now I make it every night. I heard running water – were you giving Kitty a bath?”

  “She asked for it herself and is having a good soak above now. She’s a grand little girl and I hope that she’ll recover from what she’s been through.”

  “What are you going to do about her now?”

  “Sarah is going to send a telegram to Mary, so she’ll probably take her back with her after the funeral.”

  “It will be a huge change for her,” he reflected, “and a big responsibility for Mary, who cannot be that old herself.”

  “There are aunts up there as well,” Kate told him, “and Mary has a good job. Molly sent up money to send her to school.”

  “She was an amazing old woman, wasn’t she?”

  “She was indeed,” Kate agreed. “The better I got to know her, the more she surprised me.”

  “That sometimes happens with people, but not often,” he reflected. “You had a bit of a run-in with the P.P., I heard.”

  “The whole parish probably knows it at this stage.”

  “Probably,” he agreed, “but I think that Lizzy was secretly very impressed by your performance.”

  “Really?” Kate smiled.

  “The P.P. is not an easy man to work for, and I think she might have enjoyed seeing him get his comeuppance,” he said grinning.

  “I think I may have blown David’s chance of getting his approval for the school, though, and I do regret that.”

  “But his opposition is ridiculous!” he said vehemently.

  “I knew that you’d be in favour.”

  “Any right-minded person would be, and if you want to go against him I’ll back you up.”

  “Thanks,” she said gratefully, “but we could never put you in that position. He’d make your life a misery afterwards.”

  “He probably would; he’s acting very strange at the moment, and for some unknown reason the bishop is calling tomorrow.”

  “Does that happen often?” she asked in surprise.

  “It’s the first time he’s visited outside of confirmation,” he told her, “and your man is all in a tizzy about it.”

  “Does he know what’s bringing him?”