The Magdalen Read Online Free PDF

half-mile to the small schoolhouse, seeing them safely into the hands of the master before walking the next miserable mile and a bit to the local convent school. By the time she arrived she would be soaked through and chilled to the marrow, leaving her coat and boots to dry near the heater.
    She liked the school: the nuns were nice to her and she was considered a good student. She loved the chance to sit at the back of the class and talk to the other girls. They combed and plaited each other’s hair and read Hollywood movie magazines that Anna Mitchell’s aunt sent from America. She would walk around the convent grounds or
the corridors, arms linked with her best friends Anna and Fidelma each lunchtime, whispering and confiding in each other. Walking home alone in the dark evenings, the mists would sweep down from the hillsides, the white dash of their cottage like a beacon guiding her over the muddy paths.
    Behind the sturdy front door her small brothers fought like tigers over the smallest slights and misdemeanours, pounding each other as they wrestled on the red-flagstone floor. “Stop that you pups!” screamed Majella. “You’re driving me crazy. Can you not ever try to be good!”
    Any sign of the weather lifting and Majella shooed the youngsters outdoors, even if it meant they always appeared back dirty and dung-spattered. Esther would scarcely have her coat off before her mother would pass Nora to her. “I’ve jobs to be doing, pet! Will you mind the babby for a while?”
    Nora Pat, the adored baby—or “Nonie,” as she had now become nicknamed by the whole family—had become fractious, often whingeing and crying for most of the day. It was as if she had some unseen pain or fear that no-one could ease. There had been two visits to see specialists in the big hospital in Galway, both confirming what Dr. Lawless had originally said. Her mammy had returned both times deeply depressed and angry, swearing that she would bring the child to Dublin and, if that failed, take her to Lourdes; prayers might do what the doctors couldn’t!
    Nonie would only be satisfied with Esther walking her backwards and forwards across the floor. The luminous blue eyes seemed unable to follow the rattle or simple knitted dolly that Paddy and Liam wagged temptingly in
front of her; all she wanted was to be up and carried around the place. Her mother had become tense and tired and often tearful. Esther had great pity for her mammy and the hard life she had, doing her best to help her with the housework and minding the baby once she came home from school.
    Dermot stayed out of it all. It was as if his home could no longer provide the peace and comfort a man deserved and needed. Gerard and Donal and himself had scraped and cleaned and revarnished the Sally Anne. Despite the bad weather they’d taken her out a few times, returning exhausted after a hard day’s fishing. There was always something to blame for the run of bad luck that they were having. The only time Esther saw her father brighten up was when he talked of the trawler he would buy when the good times eventually came. “We’ll have a fishing fleet, lads!” he’d confide, voicing his deep ambition, Ger and himself spreading pieces of paper on the oilcloth-covered table, scratching out figures and estimates in pencil. Donal would catch her eye, both of them knowing well that any sums of money their father did manage to put by would more likely than not find their way to McEvoy’s Public House.
    The long winter seemed endless, week running into week, all of them cramped together in the small cottage, listening to the wireless as the rain lashed against the window panes. Dermot had slaughtered the pig, and their few hens complained and squawked as they scratched at the frost-hard ground. Mixer, their old sheepdog, had managed to scrounge his way inside to a place near the range where he lay with his head