Page 137 of The Missing Sister

Nothing, was the answer.

During the next two months, Merry and Katie did their best to help Mammy rest. They shared the early morning chores, making sure everyone was fed before Merry and Bill left for school. If Nora wasn’t working up at the Big House, she would mind Pat, although, as usual with Nora, she often couldn’t be found when she was needed.

‘I’d reckon she’s meeting a fellow on her way home,’ Katie told Merry. ‘That Charlie Doonan lives near to the Big House, and she’s always been sweet on him.’

Mammy would sit in the leather chair next to the range and teach her younger girls how to make soups and stews from the vegetables they grew in the field. Merry decided that when she grew up, she’d never cook another turnip again as long as she lived. They’d also had to learn how to break a chicken’s neck, which was awful as the girls fed them every morning and had named them all. Even though Mammy had also been teaching her how to make sweet things like brack and scones, Merry despaired as all her mixtures came out of the range wrong. So she left Katie to take over those because she was so much better at it.

Often, Mammy insisted on coming downstairs more than she should to supervise them.

‘I’m your mammy, girls, and I’m not ill, just carrying a babe,’ she’d say when they chastised her for being in the kitchen.

Ellen had temporarily taken on Mammy’s duties at Father O’Brien’s house, so Mammy could return to the job once she’d had the new baby.

‘I need that job, girls,’ she’d said one night as the three of them had sat in front of the fire in the New Room, knitting booties and bonnets for the babe. ‘See, the wages I’ve saved have paid for the wool to make sure this babe never goes cold.’

Now it was the start of the Christmas holidays – the baby was due during Christmas week itself – and Merry despaired that there was no walking up the hill to the priest’s house with Mammy, to sit in front of the fire with Ambrose to talk and read. All the books he’d given her were still there in Father O’Brien’s study, and she’d read everything they had at school, which were mostly books for babies anyway.

Please come soon, Baby, Merry thought miserably as she dragged herself out of bed one rainy morning to go downstairs and cook the goodie. As it was thickening, she crossed the hallway and went to peep in at the New Room. Since Mammy had got pregnant, Daddy had again taken to sleeping downstairs, because now he had a long sofa to stretch out on. Sure enough, there he was, snoring away with his boots still on and the room smelling like a whiskey bottle. She’d heard John earlier, getting up to milk the cows and the clop of the donkey and cart as he took the churns to the creamery.

‘Daddy?’ she whispered, but got no response.

‘Daddy! Will you not be getting up now?’ she asked more loudly. ‘John’s away up with the churns already.’

He stirred, but stayed asleep. Merry sighed and rolled her eyes. At least, she thought, as she closed the latch behind her, John was steadfast and hardworking and never complained about all the extra work he had to do. The family didn’t speak about Daddy’s fondness for the bottle, but Merry always made sure she gave John an extra spoonful of sugar on his goodie in the morning. It was hard on him too.

Katie arrived into the kitchen yawning, with Pat and Bill in tow.

‘Pat bangs that drum Ellen got him for his birthday the moment he wakes,’ Katie grumbled as she looked out of the window. ‘It doesn’t feel like Christmas is coming, does it?’

‘Everything will be better once the babe has been born, Katie.’

‘Why does it have to be due at Christmas?’

‘Maybe ’tis the new baby Jesus,’ Merry giggled. ‘This farm will become like Bethlehem, and we’ll be charging thousands to pilgrims wanting to see where he was born.’

‘That’ll be at the Bon Secours Hospital then,’ Katie replied pragmatically.

‘Holy Mother, I’d not want to go and have my babe delivered by nuns!’

‘There’s doctors there too, Merry, and it’s safer for Mammy.’

‘Talking of Christmas, have you been adding the whiskey to the fruitcake every day?’ Merry asked her.

‘I’ve tried, but every time I go for the bottle, ’tis always empty. Where is Daddy now?’

‘Asleep in the New Room. It might as well be called Daddy’s Room these days.’

‘Could you not wake him up? ’Tis past seven,’ Katie suggested.

‘I tried, but he wouldn’t wake, so,’ Merry shrugged. ‘He’ll be in when his tummy is growling.’

‘Daddy should be out there with John. His son should be helpinghim, not the other way around. Like Nora should be up helping us.’

‘I know, Katie, but ’twill all be sorted again when the babe comes, I swear.’

‘As long as nothing goes wrong,’ Katie said, a grim expression on her face as she doled some goodie into a bowl. ‘I’m off to take this up to Mammy and fetch the washing from the boys’ room. You should see the state of it – those boys live like pigs. I’ll give Nora a kick too,’ she called as she left the kitchen.

As Merry gave the goodie another stir, she thought that her sister had unknowingly voiced exactly why it didn’t feel like Christmas: everyone in the family was holding their breath until this baby was safely born.