Ruby Flynn Read Free

He had almost been convinced that they wouldn’t make it, but the road from Doohoma and on through Bangor Erris had been freshly cleared and made passable, not by the council, but by the efforts of local farmers and the residents of the small village who had an urgent need to reach each other after weeks of isolation, in order to exchange food and help, turf and milk for porter and jam. Animals must be transported, phone calls made once the cables were repaired and letters posted to concerned relatives in places as far-flung and as exotic as Liverpool, Watford, London and New York. Cash-stuffed envelopes waited to be collected from the post office by those whose relatives abroad had been able to spare it. Many depended upon the charity of local neighbours, shop owners and friends. People could not live for long if they were alone, snowed up indoors.
    ‘It could have been much worse, Reverend Mother,’ Con said, with a knowing look. ‘She’s dry now. I took her home with myself. My wife sorted her out and put a jumper of her own over her. She’s in a bad way now, though, and no mistake. We had thought of keeping her for a while, but Mrs O’Toole said that the priest had contacted you and you were expecting her. If my wife had not been due any day, we’d have had no hesitation.’
    The reverend mother looked less than pleased.
    ‘That’s as may be Mr O’Malley, but we are struggling ourselves with this storm. We have taken in half a dozen orphans this week alone. I have no more beds or blankets. We live off what we grow and make. You would have been as well to keep her. I am honour bound to spend the money I take for fees on the school alone. On educating the young girls sent to us. Girls who have passed the entrance exam. Their parents don’t pay to educate half of Mayo, just because it snows. It is all very difficult. How are we supposed to manage? How many more can we take? It is desperate crowded in here right now, so it is.’
    Con looked the reverend mother square in the eye.
    ‘Would you like me to return home and fetch the blankets from my own bed, Mother?’
    The reverend mother was instantly shamed, her lack of charity highlighted in just a few well-chosen words. Moments later, they were standing in her study, in front of the roaring fire. Con pointedly inspected the splendour of the study.
    ‘’Tis a mighty grand vase you have here, Mother.’
    Con nodded towards a large red and gold vase, which stood in the centre of a round table.
    But if the reverend mother had noticed the irony in his voice, she gave no sign of it.
    ‘Isn’t it just the most beautiful thing?’ she trilled enthusiastically, moving closer to admire it with him, as though seeing it for the first time. ‘Father Michael carried it all the way home from Chicago himself, you know. It was given to him by a firm of Irish builders, a very well-to-do family. He gave them communion in their own private chapel. Can you imagine that? Before he died, God rest his soul, he asked us to keep it safe for him. I don’t mind admitting, it brightens up my day. There is not one person enters into this study who doesn’t admire it.’
    As she rattled on, Con’s gaze took in the rest of the room. The pictures on the wall, fine china, the brass lamp on the desk and the ornate fender around the fire. The room was packed with beautiful things. Silver on the windowsill, a gold knife on the mahogany desk. As he looked down, he noticed that Ruby was copying him. She, too, studied the room. He had expected her to be intimidated and he felt strangely moved that she stood up straight, with her hands rigid by her sides, almost proud and yet, God knew, the child had nothing on this earth to feel proud about. Her gaze rested, just as his had done, first on the vase on the table, then on the paintings, the windowsill and finally on the brass fender around the fire.
    She’s mimicking me, he thought to himself, as a faint smile touched his lips. She doesn’t know