The Healer Page 10

  ‘Fuck,’ he says and shakes his head a bit and stands back and away from my hand. The dread in me finds an empty bottle of porter on the windowsill. I grab it and smash it against the wall. The force of it cuts my hand but I hold the neck of the bottle with everything I have and slash at his face and neck. The bottle hits its mark before I even realise what I’ve done. I stab forward and stick it into his pocket but it doesn’t go far in at all.

  The bottle slips in my grip and clinks to the floor. I’m without my weapon as his blood pours through the moving fingers trying to hold his face in place. He’s screaming now, roaring in pain. I’ve his blood on my skin and I’m trying to wipe it off me. Crying, I find the handle of the back door and am out into the darkness with people’s voices behind me. I can’t take much more of anything. I slump to the damp ground and rock over and back singing to myself and asking the Lord to make me die.

  ‘She’s cut me! That mad bitch cut me!’ Vincent roars. ‘Undressed herself and threw herself at me. When I refused, she cut me up!’

  The murmuring of how to deal with me starts. It’s then I hear Daddy, ‘She’ll not hurt me. She’s my girl.’

  Bredagh is breathless. ‘I’m telling you, Michael. She said to me that she’d stop my heart, like she stopped Nancy’s! Keep her away from your heart.’

  ‘She held me chest and I felt weak as water. That’s how she cut me. I didn’t see it coming. She held me heart. That one is as evil as they come. Can someone get me the doctor?’

  I hum on and on and let the darkness fold me into it. I want to die. Could I make my own heart stop? Before I can do anything at all, they’ve my hands held behind me and I’m being marched to a locked room with lots of anger following me.

  26

  Daddy’s eyes are bloodshot and swollen. I haven’t seen him in a fortnight or more. ‘The laundries are all full. Or so they say. They tell me that you must be punished but they can’t keep you locked up here for much longer. The nuns said that they’re scared of you. Sweet Christ, how have we come to this?’ he says.

  There is no word of Vincent being punished. ‘I’m going to have a baby,’ I tell him. ‘I know that there will be a boy in my belly.’

  Daddy cries into his hands. I wish he would just go away. ‘Who…?’ he asks like he cares.

  ‘Vincent,’ I tell him. ‘He’s a bad man and you know it.’

  ‘Jesus! You can’t say that.’

  ‘I am saying it.’

  ‘But…’

  There’s a knock at the door. One of the nice men in uniform steps in and says, ‘Prison is the next stop, Michael. The nuns have refused point blank to take her. It’s the Dublin women’s prison. She’s sentenced to time and that’s it. I think we can sway the judge to be more lenient. She’s been good in here for us. Not a bit of bother with her. We all have a soft spot for her. Don’t we, Molly love? We all want to help.’

  ‘Prison?’ Daddy says and cries some more, making a holy-show of us both. There are no shadows or friends in the corner of my eyes any more. I’ve told them to ‘fuck off’ so many times, and they’ve listened now. The guards, too, have been sorry to hear that I’m not healing anyone.

  ‘Michael, you do know that your Vincent is up to no good. You should know that he’s well known for violence in the capital. This is not your little one’s fault. He has had this coming in a long while. We did our best for Molly, but the judge saw Vincent’s face and listened to his lies and nonsense. Typical. And you didn’t show up for her. An earning man’s word is taken over a young girl’s every time.’

  ‘Is there nothing we can do?’ Daddy asks him as they both make out I’m not there. ‘That Dr Brady could put in a good word for her?’

  ‘He already has done his best. The poor man is here often and spoke up, but sure we can’t let him in to see her. She’s considered a danger to herself and others. Even you shouldn’t be here alone, but we gave you a few minutes’ grace. The prison won’t be pleasant, but it shouldn’t be for too long.’

  I’m not sure where I am, as I don’t care to ask. It is possibly Sligo town from the noise of cars passing. The walls are cold and hard here in the lock-up. Although they don’t seep badness out of them, they still don’t let goodness in.

  I’m glad to feel the wind in my hair as they stuff me into the back of a car. I’m as sick as a dog into the smelly bucket they give me. By the time we are inside the high walls of the Dublin prison, the men in the front seat are as tired of me as I am of life itself.

  With the baby growing inside me, I cannot make my own heart stop. If I do, I’ll kill the baby. This baby is important. I know in my heart that he’s a special soul. Daddy mustn’t have told anyone my secret cause no-one mentions it when I’m naked and they’re checking me for lice. There’s not a word of my baby when they are writing down all my information and slapping me on the back of the head to answer them, when they know it all already. When I’m still sick and need another bucket, no-one asks why or how they can help.

  The board for a mattress is hard and the blanket scratchy. Despite the thick walls and the ice-cold bars on the windows, I feel safe. The place is crowded and there’s not much room at times, but I don’t care. The other women all leave me be and if they don’t, I hiss at them and tell them, ‘I’ll kill you in your sleep. I’ll hold your heart and make it stop.’

  I don’t look anyone in the eye and keep my hair over my face as much as possible. I’m safely locked away from what has hurt me in this world. There’s no Vincent and no Aunt Bredagh. That is good.

  I know now, too, that Dr Brady cares for me still, even if Violet doesn’t. The thought of Jude worrying about me is about all that hurts me now. Perhaps he doesn’t know where I am or what has happened. He’s still only a child and might not hear such sad tales. I pray that he’s always loved by Violet and that she doesn’t turn sour on him, like she did on me.

  They make us work unravelling old rope, but it’s not as bad as it could be. I’m fed and can sup water when I please. I’ve no Bredagh in my face when I take a breather. The guards mostly leave me alone. There’s one or two with bad air around them but they’re mostly afraid of me. They’ve been told that I’m a witch and with my belly getting bigger they give me a wide berth. No-one wants to be accused of anything.

  ‘I’ve watched you for weeks. You never speak?’ a woman asks me.

  If I don’t talk then why is she talking to me? I know, like the rest in here, she sees me as a simpleton. It suits me that they don’t rate me as a threat, or someone to bother with. This woman’s hair is a funny shade of brown at the roots and is white until the ends. I hear her explain that she used to dye it when she was free to. She’s probably old enough to be my mammy, but it’s hard to tell. The gaol makes us all look pale and drawn. There’s no proper daylight to keep us young looking.

  ‘I’m guilty of nothing,’ she says, and I sense a Sligo accent despite her attempts at talking all posh. ‘I took on the nuns, that’s all. The nuns wanted to sell children to the Americans, too, and they made sure I was caught. No-one believes me when I tell them that those mother and baby homes are full of babies going missing. The priests took against me, too. There’s no hope for an ambitious woman that the men want rid of. Don’t annoy the power in the world. I’ve learnt that the hard way.’

  I rub my belly and thank the angels that I was not taken in by the nuns. This woman is called Peggy Bowden. I’ve heard the others talk about her. She’s well liked and feared and she’s also the first to mention that I’m carrying a child.

  ‘I’m a midwife,’ she tells me when we are alone and she reaches out to touch me. I don’t want anyone near me and I shrink back from her. ‘Who’s the father?’ she asks.

  There’s no way I can think of the father of my baby, and despite the kindness in her features and the air around her being soft, I’ll never speak of him again.

  ‘It’s probably more correct to say, that I used to be a midwife.’ Peggy laughs and it’s a nice sound. I’m not sure
I’ve ever laughed before. I must have laughed sometime. But when?

  Peggy goes on, ‘I’m not a midwife any more. They’ve ruined all of that for me. I’m only a criminal now. Why are the rest of the women afraid of you? They say that you’ve got powers? What do they mean?’

  I don’t answer her.

  ‘The silent ones, like you, make them nervous. The chatty ones, like me, annoy them.’ Her laugh is loud and long. The guards don’t poke us back to work but nod at her. ‘They’re not the worst blaggards. Those two there have a good heart on them. But there’s also the ones who want to grope you if they catch you in a dark corner and unaware,’ she points at the men who are smoking and ignoring us. ‘None of them seem to bother you much. It’s mad to think they let me off killing my husband but then locked me up for giving children a better life in America.’

  I touch my stomach.

  ‘They say you did something so bad that the nuns wouldn’t keep you? And that the baby is the work of the divil himself?’

  I smile, despite not being happy at all.

  ‘Molly? Isn’t that your name?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You do have a voice, then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They say you’re not the full shilling.’ She points to her pretty enough but funny coloured head.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They say the same about me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you say anything else other than yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  We both laugh at that. I wait and laugh again all by myself. I like the sound of it. I laugh again and again. It feels nice to do it. The haze that I’ve lived in since the animal humped me lifts a little. I reach out and touch Peggy who’s looking at me all funny. The skin is warm on her arm. ‘Thank you,’ I mutter.

  ‘You’re welcome, little one. You definitely aren’t meant to be in prison. When they know you’re having a baby, they can’t keep you in here.’

  I shrug. ‘I’m safe.’

  Peggy looks around her. She’s thinking that I’m fully daft in the head. She looks at one bad woman after the next. ‘I thought I was hard to most things, but there are days I could piss myself in fear in here. What kind of a life did you have, if this is a safe place?’

  My shoulders lift.

  ‘A beautiful creature like you would be such a threat out there. An unusual being people are afraid of. I don’t think you’re as simple as you make out, though. Can we be friends, Molly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  We laugh again together. There’s a tiny feather on her shoulder. The angels must be happy that we have found each other.

  27

  I still ignore them, though. The angels I mean. They do come to me now and again. In stubbornness and annoyance, I won’t listen to them. I haven’t done or thought about my healing in months. The only link to my past is the future that is in my belly. I rub and sing to him all the time; making him big, strong and perfect.

  The days get better in the gaol, as they move Peggy and me closer. I hold her in my arms when her dreams are bad. Poor Peggy’s mind takes off on her in the dark and she needs me. She’d never admit to her weakness but that draws me to her all the more. In the daylight hours she keeps vigil over me, thinking she spares me from the other villains who surround us and from the guards who want a piece of us.

  ‘There’s a new chaplain. A fine looker he is,’ Peggy tells me. ‘Priest or no priest, he has a fine set of teeth and a handsome face.’

  I’ve seen him. I know that he’s a troubled man. He has no interest in my beauty, but comes to whisper in my ear, ‘I need to talk to you.’

  I agree even though I have no choice as to what happens in this place. Peggy is sure that he wants to hump me like an animal. All he wants is for me to listen to him. He takes me to a quiet room where only I can hear of his worries. There is no point in my trying to explain it to Peggy that this man’s pain has found me. I don’t want to think about my gift, or talk of it. I don’t want to go backwards, but in listening to this young handsome man, I sense that the future wants me to give in to being myself. I am what I am. I’ve not lost the gifts that were given to me.

  ‘The child? You’re carrying a baby?’ the chaplain’s beautiful lips ask me. ‘Tell me about yourself. Let’s talk about you today.’

  ‘NO.’

  ‘I looked at your information. They said you attacked and maimed your uncle?’

  The wall behind him is uneven and old, with dips and hollows in the stones. It is whitewashed maybe.

  ‘Why was I drawn to you, Molly? Why do you listen to me? Why is it that when we pray together I feel healed?’

  I wish he’d talk on about his own sins, which aren’t really sins at all.

  ‘I want to know more about you. Why do I trust you and want to be near you? Do you know why, Molly? Are you used to people needing you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are your parents alive?’

  ‘My mammy is dead. Daddy’s lost to the drink.’

  ‘Where will you go when you get out? Where’s home?’

  ‘I have no home.’

  ‘The child?’

  ‘I’ll be rich.’

  His chuckle isn’t a cruel one. He pities me. ‘The guards tell me that you’re friends with Peggy Bowden? She’s not the best woman to take up with, Molly. I know in here, though, that she’s the best of a bad lot. Despite what my superiors think of her, they tell me that she’s looked after you. Is she good to you? You seemed to have picked your company as best you could.’

  ‘She picked me.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘When is she getting out? I don’t think either of you have long left of your sentence. I might be able to arrange it that you are let out together. Do you think that would be a good idea?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I won’t want to let you go. I feel safe when I’m with you.’

  ‘I like it here.’

  His lip trembles. ‘How could you like this hell-hole?’

  ‘This is not hell. It is home. I’m safe here.’

  28

  Peggy is good at counting and she is looking forward to getting out. The thoughts of everything outside scares me. I don’t want to leave my last meeting with the chaplain. Everything about it hurts my ears and head. I cover my head with my arms and cry.

  ‘She’s in need of your protection,’ he says to Peggy by the opened front gate. ‘I’ll miss her healing hands.’

  The snorting Peggy does after him and her poking my arm is annoying. ‘He likes what you did for him! The dirty brute didn’t even try to hide what he made you do for him.’

  I won’t take my hands off my ears and clench my eyes shut. Nothing she says will make me move my legs. In the finish, she simply kicks my leg and it crumples under me a bit and starts me walking. She leads me like a blind, deaf mute and tells me off every few steps. But give her her dues, she still keeps hold of me and shouts at me above the noise of the people and the cars.

  ‘Keep walking, you mad woman. We’re free, Molly lass. We’re free as birds. What are you scared of? This is freedom, you silly lunatic!’

  How can I tell her that I’ve never been to a city before? And that I want to go back to where Vincent can’t find me? He lives in Dublin and that’s where I am now. There are no big high walls to hide me, or make me invisible. Everyone knows everyone in Ireland. It won’t take long for someone to tell him where I am. Aunt Bredagh will be missing her money from my work. She’ll be searching for me too.

  The likes of them would know when I was going to be let out. I’m out early thanks to the chaplain, but I might still be found. Every face that looks at me could be someone who knows me from Sligo. They might be a relation of a person I healed, who will tell Bredagh they saw me.

  ‘He’ll find me,’ I tell Peggy over a cup of strong tea in a place that sells it.

  ‘Who will find you?’

  The tea is sweet like Jane O’Shea used to make me.

&n
bsp; ‘Even I don’t know your full name, Molly. Why are you so frightened?’

  ‘I’ve never been to the city before.’

  ‘Where are you from?’

  I can tell from her accent where she is from, so surely she can tell too?

  ‘You still don’t trust me?’ Peggy asks.

  ‘I don’t trust anyone.’

  My shadows nod at me. I want to ask them if Peggy is a good soul, but I won’t satisfy them. I can’t let them back into my life. I’m in enough of a mess as it is, without having more voices in my head. I’m tired of being pulled this way and that.

  ‘Why do your eyes go all funny?’ she asks me. ‘Do you get fits sometimes? Are you sick? There’s fits people get. Do you get them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You look downwards and to the sides all the time, like there’s someone or something there. Who are you afraid of?’

  I wish she wouldn’t ask me things.

  ‘The baby’s father? I take it that you are not married?’ she asks.

  ‘I’m not married.’

  ‘Your family?’

  ‘My father is a drunkard and my mother is dead.’

  ‘That must be the most you’ve ever said to me. Why were you in prison?’

  I touch my baby boy and tell him that he’s loved even though he was made in hate.

  ‘The father of your child has something to do with all of this? Is that who you’re afraid of Molly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Men have a lot to answer for in this world. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You hear me,’ Peggy holds my hand and rubs it between her own. ‘You are safe with Peggy Bowden. I promise.’

  29

  ‘What did you work at before?’ Peggy asks me as we are staying in a room of some nurse she knows. The woman who owns the house doesn’t want a bit of us. She stared at my large belly. The baby has always moved a lot, but in recent days he’s running out of room, and so are we. ‘You’re too young for working. That’s the answer. You were still at school?’