The Herbalist Read Online Free PDF Page B

unable to hold up their heads in public. Until then
Mam’d had a life, friends even.
    Before she gave up pretending, she liked to
act like we were normal and she would be all about my education. She’d smooth down
my hair, look into my eyes and tell me I’d have a future and a good one at that.
Of course, that fell by the wayside, and two years ago I was kept home to help out.
    I had liked school but nothing much was
expected of me. No one checked my homework, but I was first in line when there was a nit
scare. Immaculata said I was a daw, like the rest of my lot.
    ‘Who here’s going to be a
nun?’ an inspector asked once.
    ‘The four at the front; we’ll
leave the rest to the men,’ old Immaculata had said with a wave of her hand and a
sneer.
    So, here I was: spared the convent and the
men. I never dreamt that someone would fall in love with me, not someone normal and good
living. Maybe Aggie was wrong about love coming my way; maybe I was a fool to believe
her.
    Mam did love us when she wasn’t
nervous or in a terrible temper. When she was in a good mood, she forgot everything
else. ‘I’ve a great little family,’ she would say, ruffling
Charlie’s hair. We were the best in the world then. Touching our heads, kissing
our necks. The rest of the time we gave her a pain in her eye and would have to get out,
get out, get out, or the brush would be across our backs.
    ‘Get out or I’ll fetch the
cruelty man,’ she used to shout when we were small.
    I used to have nightmares about him, the
cruelty man in his shitty brown suit coming to get me, whipping me off in his car. He
pulled up into our yard once. Big dusty car, short clean man. He was looking for the
Carvers’ place. I wish my father hadn’t told him how to find the house. My
father said he took Kay Carver’s baby because she hadn’t any sense. Mam said
it was because she hadn’t any husband. Kay used to jump out from the hedge and
shout ‘boo’ at us when we were walking the road. She still followed us but
she didn’t jump out any more.
    Charlie used to laugh when Mam threatened us
with the cruelty man. I just ran like hell. Charlie and I were pals. I fished with him.
I loved fishing and loved fried trout. Didn’t even mind gutting and cleaning, not
when I knew we’d be in for a treat. I didn’t have a weak stomach like my
mother. We’d have cold spuds and tomatoes with it.
    Charlie was in great form of late, getting
letters that made him smile. You should’ve seen him, running to meet the postman
like a child, twirling into the barn to lie down and read them. Mooning around,
daydreaming. About what, that’s what I’d like to know? Sweethearts, I
supposed.
    Me, I dreamt of staying on in school,
imagined years of correct-marks and ‘Good work, Emily’ written all over my
copybook and someone saying, ‘We’ll make a teacher of you yet.’ Birdie
said I’d make a fine teacher or dressmaker, that I’d be great at whatever I
put my hand to. As if teachers left school at fourteen.
    When we got to the town, the market was
packed. The chicken and dog man near deafened me as we passed, roaring his prices, half
his red hens dead and the other half pecking the ground, and black pups in a barrow, all
small and shivering. I leant down and rubbed one: he was the size of my hand.
    ‘Don’t ask, Emily – you’re
not getting a pup and that’s that.’
    We were at a standstill then; a crowd
blocked our path. Mrs Greaney turned and smiled at us, fag limp and brown in the corner
of her mouth.
    ‘Keeping well, Mrs Madden?’ Her
eyes travelled slowly over my mam.
    ‘The best. What is it, Mrs Greaney?
What’s everyone looking at?’
    ‘The Indian lad – he’s put a
spell on them. Don something-or-other he calls himself.’ She coughed and moved
aside. ‘Go on, you’d love him, Mrs Madden. Go on, have a gander at The
Don.’
    ‘Thanks but I won’t, we have an
appointment.’ Mam yanked me back by the collar. She made me follow her around