Under the Hawthorn Tree Read Online Free PDF Page B

Suddenly Eilyjumped up.
    ‘Bridget, what about Bridget?’ she pleaded.
    They all ran up to the back field. The grass was covered with wild flowers. The hawthorn tree stood tall, its dark branches heavy with foliage.
    A feeling of peace washed over them. They all joined hands and asked Bridget, their little sister, to look after them and keep them safe. They could almost hear her chuckles through the swaying leaves.
    ‘We’ll always remember this place,’ they swore.
    ‘Come on, you children,’ shouted Tom Daly. He was standing at the bottom of the field. ‘I can’t wait forever for ye.’ They gathered up their belongings and Eily closed out the door after them. They walked down the boreen to where a small group of about fourteen people stood.
    The children did not speak or look back.

CHAPTER 5

The Road to the Workhouse

    THE THREE CHILDREN WALKED for over a mile without uttering a word. They silently looked around at the group. There was Statia Kennedy and her daughter Esther. They were both so weak they could hardly walk. Their eyes were sunken in their heads. And big John Lynch – most people roundabouts knew that although he was a fine big man he only had the mind of a child, and his older sister had always seen after him up to now. Little Kitty O’Hara, walking along on her own, all belonging to her gone. And the O’Connell twins. There were a few old ones, obviously bewildered and upset at having to leave their homes.
    Eily fell into step with Kitty O’Hara. She seemed sullen and hostile instead of her usual friendly self.
    ‘Don’t say anything, Eily O’Driscoll. I’m glad to be going to the workhouse. At least there’ll be a meal and a roof over our heads. They’re all gone, every single one. I’m the only one left and I’m going to live.’
    Eily did not try to reply. At any other time or in any other circumstances they all might have enjoyed the walk. It was a warm sunny day. The countryside looked green and lush, fine green pasture land all around. The cows, busy chewing, ignored the passersby. Wherever the cows were, a boy or man stood guard to protect them from the poor and starving of the district. At dusk they were locked in and minded for the night.
    The cottages and cabins shone white against the hillside. At times a woman standing in her doorway would spot the ragged group walking along. Most just turned around and shut their door. Others threw their aprons over their heads and ran away from such an unlucky sight. Children peeped out and waved. Eily felt ashamed – like an outcast. No one uttered a greeting or a kind word of comfort to the sorry band.
    They stopped for a few minutes at a little brook and all had a sip of water or threw it on their faces to refresh themselves. Tom Daly avoided their eyes and seemed preoccupied. Statia Kennedy slippedoff her rough boots and was bathing her foot.
    Once again they began to walk. Peggy started to whine, but when she saw the fierce glare in Eily’s eyes forced herself to stop.
    ‘Don’t you dare draw attention to us with your snivelling, Miss, or I’ll give you a right belt, do you hear?’
    ‘Yes, Eily, I’m sorry,’ murmured Peggy quietly, sensing that she had to behave herself.
    They had almost left Duneen, the district they knew so well – another few miles would bring them to the workhouse.
    ‘Oh! Mother of God, my poor old foot!’ Statia Kennedy was lying on the ground, her daughter helping her and a few old ones all around her. She dragged off the old leather boots. The dirty black toes were bleeding and sore, the foot puffed and swollen. The old woman was moaning in pain.
    Eily winked at Michael. He casually jumped over a low stone wall and walked toward a clump of bushes as if he had to answer a call of nature. In a minute he was out of sight.
    The two girls stood still as Tom Daly walked back and knelt down beside the old woman.
    ‘Let me die here along the road, for I’ll never make it to the workhouse,’ Statia