The Irish Child

By Laura Joyce Moriarty

About the book . . .
The Irish Child is a heartwarming story of the unusual courage and unspoken love of an aging woman who has been left to rear a grandchild in a country plagued by relentless insecurity and hunger. Her incredible perseverance to weigh every decision and choose survival is as astonishing as her unmerciful disgust for the indolent and greedy. She chooses isolation and self-restraint, rejecting the criticism of all who wonder why she is anxious about the unexpected, and worse, continually stubborn and determined to have her way. They fail to understand that her self-discipline and resolve are her trappings for survival and necessary to overcome all threats to her beloved granddaughter’s future.

The Irish Child, Brónach, [pronounced bro-nah] hated her sorrowful name and as a child, believed that subsistence was barely possible and indolence was the norm. But over time, the two stubborn relations not only survive but thrive.

When finally, a beautiful life of unbelievable riches unfolds before their very eyes, they both mistakenly end up on a ship bound for Hamburg, Germany during World War I.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Joyce Moriarty
• Release date: Feb 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311503626

Laura Joyce Moriarty

Laura Joyce studied Political Science at Emory University and went on to the University of Georgia to complete a Masters in Public Administration. She then worked at Emory University in Information Technology for seventeen years. During part of that tenure she wrote extensively on various technology topics and was the chief editor of a scholarly journal entitled, A Publication on Information Technology from Emory University [POINT]. Many of her papers on information technology can still be found on the Internet.She has completed a trilogy:The Secrets of Nine Irish Sons I – The BeginningThe Secrets of Nine Irish Sons II – The Rose OisínThe Secrets of Nine Irish Sons III – The Forces of StonesShe is now retired and living in Florida.Extended Bio at: http://www.fourrosesandbrownpublishing.com/aboutlaura.htm

Book preview

Prologue

Before the Treaty of Versailles

Spring 1919

Now that she was facing a huge decision, Brónach thought about her dead grandmother almost all the time. She was wondering what she would choose today if she had the chance to live a different life---a life of excitement, wealth, and learning---a life in the world of espionage.

It was as if every memory of her grandmother was seared into her head and no matter how hard she tried to forget her, every daily chore took her back to the severe lessons of her youth that she had grown to adopt into her life. If she chose something new and sophisticated, would she be able to remain constant to her values, and would she make the old lady proud?

That’s not the way you wash your hands, she yelled. You live among animals. You must use the brown soap and lather your hands as I do. Here let me show you.

Then her grandmother would walk to the bucket that sat by the well, bring up the water, pour a fresh bucketful into her copper basin, and dip her hands into it, soaping her whole arm up to her elbows. Then she would rinse them thoroughly and dump the water out into the gravel.

Now you do the same.

Try as she did, it would take Brónach three or four efforts to secure her grandmother’s approval. Then for the next few days, her grandmother would stand over her and watch each movement, sometimes demonstrating the process for a second and third time. After going through these trials, Brónach learned to repeat what she was shown with greater deliberation so she wouldn’t have to repeat the lesson a second or third time. And, she had noticed that when her grandmother spent a great deal of her time instructing her on what she demanded, the things she liked about living with her would be lost until another day.

I didn’t have time to sugar the plums today after wasting all that time in the barn. Next time, clean up the hay properly.

And so Brónach would. She had learned how to make a fresh bed, wash clothes and sheets thoroughly, and clean out the small barn and tiny corral that housed their animals---the cow, goat, lamb, and pig. She learned how to milk the cow with a perfectly clean bucket and how to store the milk jug under the cold spring that ran along the property. Every daily chore was a lesson in perfection and accomplishment. But when she reached that point of perfection with each chore, she found that she loved the feelings that emerged within her. Her successes produced a kind of happiness and peace that she didn’t think would be possible.

The two of them hardly ever spoke to each other during the entire time she lived with her---not until there was a lesson to be learned, and that was for almost ten years, or from the time she was six and left the home of her dying family to live with her grandmother.

It was very difficult for her to adjust to her instructions since her own mother rarely communicated with her and really didn’t care what she did or said. Her mother was always sweet, but she made Brónach feel insecure.

On the other hand, her grandmother made her feel very secure and cared for, but she had a temper, and she learned that though she was her only living relative, she had better not get what the old woman called cheeky. Her grandmother didn’t like telling her the same thing more than twice and when she had to, Brónach learned that to listen the first time would make both of their lives easier.

Despite her age, the old woman had an unusually pretty face with pure white hair that she wore in pigtails that were pinned on top her head. She wore only black dresses all day every day. Even her shawl was black. She could have been mistaken for a nun if she hadn’t been known to swear somewhat frequently.

She had been named Claire, after St. Claire, an Italian saint and follower of St. Francis of Assisi, who had left her own wealthy life to establish the order known as the Poor Clares---nuns that were highly revered in Ireland. This was especially paradoxical since Claire’s character could hardly be compared to those known for sacrifice and generosity.

Brónach, pronounced bro-nah, hated her sorrowful name, and was the only one of the six grandchildren named by Claire. She was obsessed with all the little bags of tools her grandmother hung from her thick leather belt. She knew what they were for, but could hardly understand how her grandmother had accumulated them, or for that matter, how she accumulated the endless jangle of money in her skirt pockets. Gamma is so old, thought Brónach, and somehow makes more money than both my mother and father have been able to make together. And she bought the goat, pig, and lamb for us. How could she have afforded it?

Chapter One

1908

Brónach Loses Her Family

Her grandmother showed up at the cottage just as her parents and her youngest sibling were saying goodbye to their world. Gamma was angry when her eldest grandson ran to her cottage and then dropped dead on the threshold right after saying the whole family was ill. She was fifty-eight years old and swore up a storm, yelling at her daughter for not using the power of the remedies that she had grown up learning to administer to others.

You’re a fool Katy O’Reilly Doyle.

I simply ran out of strength. I tried to help everyone in the village, but they all died. I didn’t have enough strength left to take care of my own.

Exactly my point, the old lady screamed. You were wasting your time on people who didn’t care to be saved and left your own children to the ravages of such a deadly illness.

I don’t see how the cures would have worked for us if they didn’t work for anyone else, she said in a nice but somewhat scolding way at the old lady. Besides, Fr. Patrick said we would be saved by Jesus Christ. He gave us his own blessing. I can die in peace.

And die you surely will, said the old lady as she looked at me all scrunched up in the corner hiding under a scrap of a blanket.

And what about our Brónach there? How is it that she’s still well?

I don’t know. She’s always hiding away from all of us. She won’t eat at home or sleep in the cottage.

And from the looks of her, keeps herself a whole lot cleaner than you or that filthy lazy husband of yours. Where’s she been sleeping?

Out in the barn with the lamb and the goat. She drinks the goat’s milk at night straight from the tit, and she survives on berries and plums she finds in the woods. I think she must poach some chicken eggs from the Bainbridge estate. I don’t know how she does it---how she gets away with it. We heard that one of the O’Hare boys was shot a month ago because he was found stealing a hen off the property.

What’s she got there hidden under the blanket?

At that I got up and quickly handed her the goat’s skin that kept the various herbs and roots safe.

She carries my herbs in that large bag she ties to her waist. I think she wants to be like you. Maybe you can get her to talk to you. She never talks to us---only little John. I hope you can take care of her, said the woman who started coughing and choking as Claire covered her mouth with her apron.

And why wouldn’t I? My only living relative now that you and that good-for-nothing husband of yours left the rest of your family to be ravaged when you had my herbs and my instructions to take care of you and the children.

I was back under my blanket with my head down. I didn’t want her to know I was staring at her. She was the biggest woman I had ever seen. I didn’t understand why she was large. My mother was so short and thin---barely a head taller than I was at six. She couldn’t have had that much food . . . not that much more than the rest of those around us and certainly not more than those in the Bainbridge household. They were rich and well fed, and yet had a bony look about them----except for the help.

They hated the Irish more than anything. I was warned constantly to stay away from them or I would be cursed by the devil himself, but I didn’t understand why since both my parents visited the vicar who lived on the estate. Nevertheless, I knew it was all very dangerous in my world, so I could never tell them where I got my food, because Veronica made me swear. I would do anything she asked.

The English of the Bainbridge estate were very clear about their feelings. They hated their estate, and only lived in the big house since the uncle was an earl and was given the land because of something that happened in England. For some reason they tolerated me, yet, I knew that the servants told on me when I was around. The nanny was at least good enough to give me a biscuit and piece of bacon in the morning. I think it was because of the eldest and only child, Veronica. She was a very beautiful girl of about sixteen, but she had a club foot---at least that is what I heard the nanny call it. She had to wear an awful big black shoe with a brace so she could walk. She told me that the family was too embarrassed to keep her in England. She was told that she would never marry and no one from their elite circle would ever want to be around her and would be humiliated if she tried to marry or to have children. But she liked me because I had a turned up lip, and therefore, we developed an easy kinship.

It’s not as bad as some I’ve seen, said Veronica. I had to go to the doctor’s every week for years. There were all kinds of children with deformities that were taken to my doctor. He was a specialist and sometimes he was able to cure a deformity, but not very often. Once when I was there, a girl with a harelip was in the waiting room. I asked her how it happened. She just shrugged her shoulders. It was so bad that the split on her lip was as wide as my mother’s thumb and went all the way up to her nose. You don’t have anything like that. Actually, yours is a bit endearing. It makes you look like a little rabbit. That’s where the word comes from---hare. Did you know that?

I hadn’t heard but was very interested in what she had to say, so I just shook my head no without interrupting.

Maybe I’ll ask my mother to get me a pet rabbit. I want a white one with a pink nose. What do you think?

I just shook my head up and down with a smile. I liked Veronica. Sometimes I think if it wasn’t for her, I never would have learned anything until I moved in with my grandmother.

It was almost always a very tearful day for my mother, went on Veronica. "She was mortified every time she was seen with me, and finally sent me to the doctor’s with my nanny, the lady who gives you the biscuit. She couldn’t stand looking at the other children. She would rant on and on about how repulsive she thought they were, and I never realized how she must have thought about me until I turned ten. Then one day, it was like a light went off in my brain. My absentee mother was abhorred with my affliction and couldn’t stand looking at me. I had always thought she had cared about me because she used to ask me if I was in pain. I was sometimes, but only because of the brace, but never said yes. I was afraid if I said I was that she wouldn’t want to be around me at all. It wouldn’t have mattered. She eventually abandoned me for her society in London.

You are the only one that ever talks to me as if I were normal so I asked my nanny to give you some food each day . . . just enough for you though. I don’t want you feeding anyone else."

I don’t feed anyone else. But I don’t take any food from my family either. It wouldn’t be fair to them.

You mean that little biscuit is all you eat all day?

Yes. Except occasionally I find some berries in the woods and drink a little goat’s milk. The goat has plenty of milk for the rest of the family.

Then I’ll ask the maid to put a little extra food in a pouch so you can eat again at four o’clock. By then you should be plenty hungry enough to eat it all and not be tempted to take it home.

I thought about her hatred for my family and the rest of the neighbors and found it very curious, but was afraid to ask her about it. I was afraid that she would think I was presumptuous---as if I had the right to ask her about her motives since she came from a rich society. I really was curious, but knew it was none of my business. It was between her and her God as my gamma always said.

I didn’t know I had a deformity.

"Of course you do. You have a harelip. It’s not that bad. It is actually very cute and your lips are so pink, you look like you have theatrical makeup on. I like your look.

Anyway, she went on with a somewhat lethargic tone, many people have them. The doctor said they come from something that frightened the mother during her pregnancy or maybe from something she ate. Of course, I don’t think he really knows where they come from. He says the same thing about all the deformities. He just likes to sound like he’s knowledgeable, but he’s really not all that smart. I know---I test him all the time."

I wanted to know how she had tested him. It was something I wanted to try to do someday.

Is that why the other children laugh at me?

Maybe. But they are ignorant and think you will become a witch. You are said to be filled with magical powers.

Oh not real magic. My grandmother just taught me a little about herbs. They help cure common ailments. It’s not all that special---though I must say, I’d be awfully happy if I had magical powers. I’d make your leg normal if I could.

That’s why I like you Brónach. I know you are the nicest person I ever met and speak to me in the most honest way. No one else would ever say that to me, because if they did, they’d be acknowledging that my leg is not normal. Only you would say something so completely honest. Even my mother doesn’t like being around me anymore, and she constantly hides the truth from me. It’s very annoying.

I always felt bad when I left Veronica. She inspired me to think about being rich, and when I was away from her, no one was at all interesting. I should have told her that I thought she was beautiful, but I never did. I thought she would just ignore a little kid anyway.

I felt awful about having something decent to eat every day. The only thing I could do was resist the food at home. At first, my family never noticed that I didn’t eat at home. Then when they finally did, they were all sick and not concerned with my daily disappearances.

Chapter Two

1908

Irish Brónach & English Veronica

My grandmother took care of my family’s burials. I couldn’t find the strength to watch. It was as if I couldn’t believe they were really dead. So throwing them into the ground seemed hideous.

Besides, even though I hadn’t gotten sick myself, I was petrified that if I was around any of them, even when they were getting buried that I might get sick too. I think my grandmother was afraid as well. She wouldn’t touch any of the dead bodies and had tied a hanky around her mouth and nose.

It wasn’t as if their deaths made me sad. I only cared about the baby, John. My mother said that John was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen. She said he had more black curls on his head than any baby should be allowed to have. I loved John because he was so good and would toddle along after me in the strawberry patches. He listened to every word I said with great interest, just like I listened to Veronica. If my grandmother had been right, my mother should have taken better care to see that John didn’t get sick.

That one thing upset me so much that I was glad when she died. I thought she didn’t deserve to have such a beautiful baby if she couldn’t see that he lived through a flu epidemic. She should have sent him to my grandmother’s. I wished he had been my baby. I would have taken him with me all day, and I would have never allowed him around the rest of the family.

Come along Brónach.

Come along where?

Home.

But I am home.

No, not here. This cottage does not belong to you. It belongs to the Bainbridge estate. They will chase you off and find someone who can pay them rent. They may even sell you to a stranger.

But they won’t. They like me.

And how do you know such a thing? They hate everyone in Ireland. They would be happy if we were all hanged.

But they like me, I swear.

You won’t have to swear. I suppose it’s possible that they took a liking to you and gave you a few tidbits to eat. I suppose that’s why you survived while the rest of the family became so ill. But I bet they didn’t let you get close to that club-footed one. I bet the nanny made you stand ten paces away. They aren’t ignorant. They know a victim of lice and fleas when they see one. I’ll tell you the truth child. You’re damn lucky to be alive. If the earl ever saw you on the property, he’d have you shot for sure.

No he wouldn’t---Veronica wouldn’t allow it.

And who is Veronica? The one with the club foot?

She’s his niece and she has a gimp leg, but I showed her how to hide her shoes in her boots so she’d look normal when she went to church or to a tea. She was very grateful and said I was the smartest person she ever met. She said I treated her as if she were normal. She said she loved that more than anything in her whole life. And she’s very pretty and has no friends except for me. I’m her only friend, so they allow me to visit her when she’s outside on the back patio. She likes me a lot. She would never allow them to shoot me.

Well the truth of it is that what might or might not happen at the Bainbridge’s is no longer important. We must go to my home where we’ll both be safe and we must hurry out of here before the earl discovers I’ve buried seven corpses on his precious property.

But I can live in the woods by myself. I’m in the woods almost all the time anyway. I’m used to it and not afraid---even in the dark.

This was a lie and Brónach had trouble saying the words. She was actually petrified of everything after dark. Even in the barn, she spent her nights curled up between the lamb and the goat that would jump up and kick any varmints that wandered in.

You mean you’d rather live in the woods all by yourself with only a daily biscuit to eat than to go home with your very own grandmother? she screamed completely distraught.

I didn’t mean that I wouldn’t like to live with you, but you’re so far away and I’ll never get to see Veronica again.

Even as I said it I realized that I had just made the same mistake as I did a few sentences earlier. I was choosing anything but her.

Well you have no choice. When you’re sixteen you can go live anywhere you like. Until then, you must live with me like it or not. I’m sure your friend will still be around when you’re sixteen.

Can’t I say goodbye to Veronica. She’ll wonder where I have gone.

No you can’t. Half of this end of Ireland has died from the fever. They’ll know what happened when they send the foreman out to the property. I’d surely like to let you visit with her, but if they see me then all will be lost. We must go now. You can send her a letter when you learn to write. I’ll know how to send it.

I threw myself onto the ground and curled up like a stone. I knew she couldn’t pick me up. I had pushed my luck too far and wasn’t going to get my way. She didn’t say a word. She took the lead that was on the goat and started walking towards her home on the west coast. The pig followed and the lamb watched me for a moment and then scurried off after the goat and pig. I watched to see if I could see which way she was going and didn’t see her for a long time. Then just as the sun was starting to set, I saw a tiny shimmering white dot on a black figure slowly moving up a dark green hill. I hadn’t realized how long I had sat in my stubbornness, but could see that dusk was approaching. I looked back into the woods and while I had been truthful about spending a lot of time there, I had never spent a night alone anywhere except the shed in my whole life. The goat had given me my nightly supply of food and now she was gone. I walked towards the shack where the animals had been housed, but when I opened the door, I heard a rustle in the straw and two sets of red eyes were staring at me in the dark. I knew what I was seeing and started running west as fast as I could. I was never so glad to see anyone that night as I nearly tripped over my sleeping grandmother.

I thought I had been lucky. I didn’t think I had woken her, but after a few seconds of listening for her breathing pattern, I realized she was awake. I crawled over to where the goat and lamb were laying and laid down next to them. When I woke, my grandmother had already been on her way and I had to run again to catch up. By ten in the morning, we were approaching her farm, but she stopped at the lake and waited for me to catch up.

Take your clothes off. You must bathe. Your clothes are filled with fleas and you have lice.

I didn’t know what she meant by lice, but had no problem going into the water and throwing off my clothes. I had never been allowed to go into any of the small lakes