Page 125 of The Missing Sister

She sounds as if she’s giving herself up for sacrifice, thought Ambrose as he felt her usual piercing look of disapproval fall upon him.

‘That’s most kind of you, Mrs Cavanagh, but I’m sure that Mr Lister and I can mind ourselves for the day, if you’ve other things to be doing,’ said James.

‘Ah, I can put them off for you, Father. Have you had breakfast yet?’

‘No, but—’

‘Then I’ll be sorting it out for you. It’s a good job I don’t have small ones that are likely to mean I’ll be unable to work for you if you need me, Father.’

With that, Mrs Cavanagh turned and left the study.

Rather than looking at her new blanket, knitted out of colourful squares by Mammy for her birthday, or counting the pennies she’d been given by everyone who had come to her party, Merry was having the worst day of her life.

The truly terrible part was seeing Mammy as pale as the sheets on her bed. She was too weak to even take a sip of water, let alone hold Patrick. The new babe was smaller than Katie’s wooden doll and as pale as Mammy. Ellen said he didn’t even seem to know how to suckle. But at least, when Merry said a prayer to the Blessed Virgin on her knees at the bedside, Mammy smiled and patted Merry’s arm. Ellen entered the bedroom and pushed her out of the way to check on their mother.

‘Go down to the kitchen,’ Ellen barked at her.

Merry watched through a crack in the wooden door as Ellen pulled back the sheet and looked between Mammy’s legs. There was no big red patch like Mrs Moran had warned about, so she gave a sigh of relief.

‘Merry, I told you to leave,’ Ellen hissed. ‘Go and make the broth, girl.’

Merry scarpered down the stairs and into the kitchen. Daddy, who rarely drank from the whiskey bottle he kept in the press in the New Room, was now fast asleep in his chair, the bottle by his side.

Katie was also in the kitchen, with Bill asleep in her lap.

‘I need to make a broth for Mammy,’ Merry said despairingly. ‘Ellen said I must. What if she dies in the night, Katie, because I didn’t know how?’

‘Father O’Brien said he’ll come down to show us. I’ll carry Bill up and put him in our bed, and take up a fresh jug of water for Mammy. I’ll take a spoon of sugar from the pantry to put in it as well. I heard Mrs Moran say sugar water was good for keeping up strength.’

Merry stood by the range, staring down at the pile of chicken bones that she was somehow supposed to turn into the watery soup Mammy sometimes made if any of them were sick. She thought hard and remembered that carrots and spuds had been involved, so she went to find some.

She peeled and chopped a few of them, put them in the pot with the bones, added some water and put it on the hotplate of the range. She watched it come to the boil, hoping that some magic would happen, but it didn’t. Instead, the water began to spit everywhere, so she had to lift it off. The pot was heavy and some water splashed onto her fingers, sending a jolt of pain through them.

‘Ouch!’ she cried, as she put the pan down and went to the tap to put her fingers under cold water, tears spilling out of her eyes. At the same time, there was a knock on the door and Father O’Brien appeared with another basket.

‘Merry, what has happened?’

‘Oh, ’tis nothing, Father,’ she said, drying her eyes on the nearest cloth. ‘I was trying to make broth.’

‘I’ve brought some soup for you.’ Father O’Brien put the basket down and offered her two flasks. ‘With a few of the carrots and potatoes added from that pot, it should be enough for your mammy for a couple of days. Where are your sisters?’

‘Ellen’s upstairs with Mammy, Nora’s after helping John outside ’cos Daddy’s sleeping, and Katie took Bill up to put him down for a sleep and hasn’t come back yet.’ Merry stared at Father O’Brien, remembering Mammy always offered him a cup of tea and some cake. But before she could, he’d picked up his basket.

‘Right, if you’d be good enough to show me up to your mammy’s room, I’ll get on with the religious side of things.’ He smiled at her, as he pulled out another flask, took the top off and sniffed it. ‘I’m just checking this is the one with the holy water in it. ’Twouldn’t do to be baptising your brother with soup now, would it?’

Merry giggled, and as she led him upstairs, thought how much she loved Father O’Brien because he always knew what to do.

After his arrival, the day got a lot better. Once Mammy had been churched (whatever that was), Daddy was woken up by Ellen and they all went upstairs to watch Patrick being baptised. Ellen took over the cooking after a gentle word from Father O’Brien about the dangers of small ones and boiling water, and Nora was dispatched upstairs with the soup and to sit with Mammy.

Eventually, night came and Merry and Katie were shooed up to bed by Ellen. ‘Bill will sleep with you tonight – we don’t want Mammy disturbed,’ she’d added.

‘You have him for now,’ Katie said as she tucked Bill under the new blanket with Merry. Then she took the hairbrush they shared from the top of the chest of drawers. ‘Count to one hundred for me,’ Katie demanded, because Merry knew she got lost after the thirties.

She did so, and marvelled at the way her sister’s hair shone like spun copper. ‘Sure, you’ll be getting yourself a handsome man to marry one day,’ Merry said admiringly.

‘I swear I’ll be having myself a husband even richer than Bridget O’Mahoney’s daddy, with a house ten times bigger than this one. Even if I don’t love him and he has a nose longer than Mrs Cavanagh’s,’ Katie said firmly. ‘Can I see how many birthday pennies you got yesterday?’

‘If you promise not to tell anyone where they’re hidden. On pain of death, Katie. Swear on all the saints first.’