money, so the Costigans . . . help.’
‘By stealing?’ So that was why the parish priest had chided the Costigans about their charity work.
Cathy shrugged. ‘Sometimes. And sometimes by upending.’
Bridie sank into a chair. ‘Up-ending?’ she asked resignedly.
Cathy was proud of her much improved knowledge. ‘Mr Costigan and some other men up-end Mr Nolan to shake the money out of his pockets before he drinks it all. Then they give that money to
Mrs Nolan for the rent and food.’ She paused, thought about it. ‘Mind, I suppose he must have spent some of it already, because he has to be drunk to be up-ended.’
Bridie shook her head. ‘Upstairs with you, Caitlin.’
‘Please, Mammy—’
‘Upstairs. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. There’s no excuse for stealing.’ But as she listened to her daughter’s hesitant ascent of the stairway,
Bridie had to agree, albeit inwardly, that thievery was sometimes forgivable, even essential.
She kept an eye on Shauna, who was having her afternoon nap on the sofa. There was a dual morality among the Scotland Road people. Catholic to the last, they were fervent Christians who would
hand their last penny into the ever gaping maw of the church. Yet they had to eat.
Bridie stirred the fire gently so as not to disturb the child. Almost every day, produce was stolen by young ones. They took from shops, market stalls, pavement vendors. She had been told that
one boy, towards the end of the previous summer, had almost drowned in a container of rotten fruit behind a market, had been swallowed up by a mouldering sea of discarded plums and cherries. To
eat, they risked their very lives. To eat, they stole. After which sin they would attend confession, only to reoffend on their way home from church.
Bridie smiled ruefully. The poor box would be rich in years to come, because the priest, before giving absolution, would be forced to ask his penitent about repayment. As the ability to make
restitution would be non-existent, the parishioner would be ordered to put the value of each stolen article into the poor box at the earliest opportunity. The poor box remained empty. Should any of
today’s miscreants ever make his fortune, the poverty would be wiped out of the Scotland Road area in one fell swoop.
Cathy would probably turn out rampageous, then. The child had an excellent brain and a strong sense of fair play. God would scarcely figure in Cathy’s calculations when it came to the bare
necessities of life. If Caitlin O’Brien saw hunger, she would feed it. ‘She’s like me exactly,’ Bridie whispered to the flames. ‘And she’s very like my mammy,
too.’
Shauna opened her eyes. ‘Cathy naughty again?’ she asked.
Bridie looked at her baby. For one who was not thriving, she seemed very alert. ‘Go back to sleep.’ Would Shauna be like Cathy? Would Shauna risk her health to ride on the back of a
cart for a bit of raw sugar? The mother nodded to herself. To appease her own hunger, Shauna might take a chance. But would she do that for a family of twelve whose father was a drunk? In spite of
her show of defiance, there remained in Cathy a degree of selflessness that was not yet apparent in Shauna’s makeup.
Sam put his head round the door. ‘Five minutes then, Bridie?’
She nodded, watched him disappear. This time, he would not be going fishing. Sam would fare very well today, because it was Christmas Eve. He would take all the unredeemed pledges into the pubs
and round the markets, would sell many pieces to those who had forgotten to buy gifts. Worse than that, he would probably accept down payments and charge a high rate of interest to those who might
well continue to owe for presents by the middle of next June.
Bridie stared into the fire. It wasn’t a bad life, she supposed. Apart from worrying about Cathy, she had few troubles. At first, she had been afraid of sharing a bed with Sam, but even
that no longer frightened her. On
‘By stealing?’ So that was why the parish priest had chided the Costigans about their charity work.
Cathy shrugged. ‘Sometimes. And sometimes by upending.’
Bridie sank into a chair. ‘Up-ending?’ she asked resignedly.
Cathy was proud of her much improved knowledge. ‘Mr Costigan and some other men up-end Mr Nolan to shake the money out of his pockets before he drinks it all. Then they give that money to
Mrs Nolan for the rent and food.’ She paused, thought about it. ‘Mind, I suppose he must have spent some of it already, because he has to be drunk to be up-ended.’
Bridie shook her head. ‘Upstairs with you, Caitlin.’
‘Please, Mammy—’
‘Upstairs. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. There’s no excuse for stealing.’ But as she listened to her daughter’s hesitant ascent of the stairway,
Bridie had to agree, albeit inwardly, that thievery was sometimes forgivable, even essential.
She kept an eye on Shauna, who was having her afternoon nap on the sofa. There was a dual morality among the Scotland Road people. Catholic to the last, they were fervent Christians who would
hand their last penny into the ever gaping maw of the church. Yet they had to eat.
Bridie stirred the fire gently so as not to disturb the child. Almost every day, produce was stolen by young ones. They took from shops, market stalls, pavement vendors. She had been told that
one boy, towards the end of the previous summer, had almost drowned in a container of rotten fruit behind a market, had been swallowed up by a mouldering sea of discarded plums and cherries. To
eat, they risked their very lives. To eat, they stole. After which sin they would attend confession, only to reoffend on their way home from church.
Bridie smiled ruefully. The poor box would be rich in years to come, because the priest, before giving absolution, would be forced to ask his penitent about repayment. As the ability to make
restitution would be non-existent, the parishioner would be ordered to put the value of each stolen article into the poor box at the earliest opportunity. The poor box remained empty. Should any of
today’s miscreants ever make his fortune, the poverty would be wiped out of the Scotland Road area in one fell swoop.
Cathy would probably turn out rampageous, then. The child had an excellent brain and a strong sense of fair play. God would scarcely figure in Cathy’s calculations when it came to the bare
necessities of life. If Caitlin O’Brien saw hunger, she would feed it. ‘She’s like me exactly,’ Bridie whispered to the flames. ‘And she’s very like my mammy,
too.’
Shauna opened her eyes. ‘Cathy naughty again?’ she asked.
Bridie looked at her baby. For one who was not thriving, she seemed very alert. ‘Go back to sleep.’ Would Shauna be like Cathy? Would Shauna risk her health to ride on the back of a
cart for a bit of raw sugar? The mother nodded to herself. To appease her own hunger, Shauna might take a chance. But would she do that for a family of twelve whose father was a drunk? In spite of
her show of defiance, there remained in Cathy a degree of selflessness that was not yet apparent in Shauna’s makeup.
Sam put his head round the door. ‘Five minutes then, Bridie?’
She nodded, watched him disappear. This time, he would not be going fishing. Sam would fare very well today, because it was Christmas Eve. He would take all the unredeemed pledges into the pubs
and round the markets, would sell many pieces to those who had forgotten to buy gifts. Worse than that, he would probably accept down payments and charge a high rate of interest to those who might
well continue to owe for presents by the middle of next June.
Bridie stared into the fire. It wasn’t a bad life, she supposed. Apart from worrying about Cathy, she had few troubles. At first, she had been afraid of sharing a bed with Sam, but even
that no longer frightened her. On
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